


Camp Lake Hale

by sarcasmandirony



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Camp Monitors, Dubious Consent, Fingering, Frottage, Inappropriate Behavior, M/M, Oral Sex, Pranks, Rimming, Sharing a Room, Underage Drinking, assholes in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 14:36:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1270147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasmandirony/pseuds/sarcasmandirony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Scott decide to spend their last summer before college being camp monitors in the summer camp they used to attend when they were kids. Stiles aspires to rival Nathan Hale as the coolest camp monitor <i>ever</i>. Of course, this being Stiles' life, Nathan is getting married at the end of the summer, which leaves the most boring Hale family member in charge of camp matters - Derek Hale. Blah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Camp Lake Hale

This is going to be the best summer ever, Stiles knows it for a fact.

He and his bestest of friends, Scott McCall, are spending their last summer before going off to totally different colleges at completely opposite corners of the wider US, which really sucks, as monitors in Camp Lake Hale, a summer camp they used to attend when they were kids. And dude, was it always a completely awesome, totally rad summer.

They were going to have a blast, like every other summer, sharing bunk beds and enjoying a view of Lake Hale, where they often gathered, sitting around the crackling fire while eating mostly burnt marshmallows, the moon casting its silver light across the quiet lake while the animal sounds coming from the neighboring wilderness served as backdrop noise to ghost stories that sometimes kept both him and Scott up all through the night.

Speaking of wilderness, Stiles cheerfully realizes that the wide plains are finally giving way to a more floral view, full of sequoias and red woods, pine trees and oak trees, the lively melody of busy birds flying freely around joining the hum of the old camp bus and the hot summer wind rumbling in through the open windows.

Stiles elbows Scott’s side, body buzzing with excitement.

“We’re finally here.” He announces. “I can already picture us hiking through the woods and going on scavenger hunts. It’s going to be super cool.”

“Yeah, _cool_. In your mental image, are you sweating like a pig and tripping in every tree root you encounter along the way?” Scott questions in his usual brand of negativity.

“Shut up. I’m going to be as cool as Nathan Hale. I’ll take the kids to explore the deep wonders of the wild and uncharted grounds surrounding Lake Hale. Nathan never sweated and he never tripped and neither will I!”

“Yeah, I’m sure the dark rings under his armpits were just decorative.”

Stiles ignores Scott and his untruthful, dull remarks, regretting ever introducing him to sarcasm because man, Scott is an awful student. “I’ll let them stay up all night and play video games and I’ll arrange night time trips to the vending machines and I’ll let them sneak out of some of the boring activities camps insist on having and I –”

“Didn’t Nathan get into trouble over the wolf thing?” Scott interrupts, being a total buzz kill.

And, oh, yeah, Stiles had kind of forgotten about the wolf thing.

The Hales also own a Wolf Sanctuary, a couple of miles away, both properties sharing the same boundary. Of course, the wolves are all properly tagged, so camp management always knows of their whereabouts. Stiles is sure someone (Derek) didn’t notice the wolf had wandered too close to camp grounds.

Nathan had no fault  _at all_ in the matter, of that Stiles is certain.

So Stiles makes a dismissing motion with his hand. “They’re lucky Nathan is the bravest human ever alive or they would’ve gotten into serious trouble. A kid bitten by a wolf is bad publicity.”

“I seem to remember Nathan being pretty terrified.” Scott says.

Clearly, Scott’s memory is in the same deplorable shape as Stiles’ old grandma. Thankfully, he has Stiles to fill in the blanks. “Lies, Nathan gets terrified over nothing! Nathan eats danger for breakfast. Nathan punches humongous beasts without getting a single scratch.”

Scott rolls his eyes. “It was a baby cub.”

“It was as big as we were!”

“We were eight, Stiles, of course it was as big as we were.”

“I’m glad you agree.” Stiles says, happy his best friend has come around.

“I’m not… I didn’t…” Scott grunts, shaking his head. “Forget it.” He decides, accepting Stiles’ flawless logic. “Just try not to get us into any trouble.”

Stiles presents Scott with a condescending gaze.

Scott sighs. “Try not to get us into  _too much_ trouble.”

“I’ll try.” Stiles shrugs. He wouldn’t be a decent best friend if he didn’t got them into  _at least_  a little bit of trouble.

What’s life without a tiny bit of trouble, anyway?

His dad, the Beacon Hill’s Sheriff, would say ‘safe’, though since his dad’s definition of ‘daring’ is eating a non veggie burger, Stiles is ignoring his hypothetical stance on the matter. Stiles, on the other hand, thinks of ‘boring’ as a much more fitting word.

“You really have to try, buddy, because I really need the money.” Scott tells him.

“I’ve read their guidebooks, Scott, don’t worry.” Stiles reassures, knowing exactly how to avoid being fired. “They’re not overly strict. We should be fine with a couple of infractions.”

“Should?” Scott lifts a brow.

“Most definitely will.” Stiles rectifies.

Scott shakes his head. “Then let the fun begin.”

 

* * *

 

A couple of miles later a wooden sign welcomes them to Camp Lake Hale, the bumpy road giving way to a much more smoother terrain, the forest backdrop opening  in a familiar clearing where a wooden building sits by the lake side shore.

Stiles jumps off of the bus, a cloud of dirt ascending in the hot summer air, some of it sticking to his sweat slick forehead, Stiles realizes, as he brushes the back of his hand across it while looking around for Nathan.

With a grimace, Stiles rubs the back of his hand through his jeans shorts.

“Your face is covered in dirt.” Scott offers after handing over his backpack and they head out over to the main building.

“Yes, Scott, I know.”

“You shouldn’t have jumped.”

“I can’t help being energetic, Scott. You know this, you know me. Besides, quit worrying. Embrace the nature life, breathe in the fresh air.” Stiles says, breathing in deeply.

Scott chuckles when Stiles coughs out, the traitor.

They turn their attention over to the main building’s porch when they heard a voice. “Welcome, fellow monitors, to Camp Lake Hale.” Laura welcomes them. “I hope you are ready for a summer full of adventure and fun.”

“Hell yes I am!” Stiles shouts, fist raised high.

Laura grins devilishly. “Then follow me to the reception.” She requests, waving them inside the wooden building.

“There’s something fishy going on.” Scott whispers.

“There you go, worrying again. Relax! Laura is pretty cool, almost as cool as Nathan.” Stiles declares vehemently.

Scott rolls his eyes. “Anyone who’s favorite past time is torturing Derek is immediately cool in your books, Stiles.”

That may or may not be true.

“She may simply enjoy torturing people in general.” Scott supplies.

And that is totally true, Stiles realizes, as Laura leads them right into the wolf’s den, Derek standing below a red ‘reception’ sign in a military pose and, hot damn, Derek looks hotter than Stiles remembers. Pimpled skin has given way to sharp cheekbones, angular jaw and perfectly trimmed stubble.

Shame he still has the same old ass attitude, which kind of counters the hotness. Stiles thinks speaks volume of Derek’s particular brand of asshole-ishness, since he’s really, really hot.

“I wonder if Nathan and Laura still tease him for being the youngest monitor.” Scott whispers and Stiles looks at him, confused. He doesn't remmeber that at all. “Well, now he’s the second youngest, I guess.”

“If I hear as much as a single word during my speech, you’re going home in the same bus you came in even before camp officially starts.” He says and Laura starts giggling. “This particularly goes to you two in the back.” Derek scolds, a really intense stare falling upon Scott and Stiles.

Laura’s giggles turn into snickering and she covers her mouth with her hand.

 “If you thought this would be all fun and games.” Derek says. “You were wrong and you are also free to leave right now. You are here to make sure the _campers_ have a good time, making sure they stay safe while doing so and believe me, that is a full time job.”

“Wrong, we’re allowed three off days.” Stiles states and Scott elbows him.

Laura cackles and falls behind the counter as every row of monitors turn to him in utter shock. All except for four counselours, one of them Stiles recognizes as Cora Hale, who look mildly amused.

“What did you just say?” Derek asks, veins threatening to pop out in his forehead and throat and even in his arm and Stiles is equally parts aroused and afraid.

“We are allowed three off days.” Stiles says again, a bit irritated now.

“I said be quiet.” Derek growls.

Stiles cutting words are silenced by a single sideway glance at Scott.

Derek starts walking along the rows of monitors, deciding to let Stiles’ slip go. “Your eyes will have to be on those kids 24/7. It only takes a mere pair of seconds for the worst to happen. Mistakes won’t be allowed. You’ll have to be swift as a roaring thunder, have the attention of a soaring eagle and be quick as a mighty chital.”

“He forgot about ‘mysterious as the dark side of the moon’.” Stiles mocks, in a whisper this time, and Scott subtly covers his snickering with an open palm.

“Former campers don’t get a pass.” Derek tells them, his march coming to a stop next to Stiles yet again. “And I’ll certainly be keeping an eye on you.” Derek says, his brows furrowed in a scowl. Stiles matches his stare, silently telling him to fuck off.

Even he knows voicing that out is stepping the line.

“Laura!” Derek calls.

“I’m here!” She answers with in a high pitch tone, standing up from behind the counter with her cheeks red and her hair in disarray.

“ _Quickly_ and _orderly_ make a line over the counter so Laura can assign each of you to your corresponding cabin. You’ll also be handing her out any and all electronic devices you may have.” Derek orders. “Unauthorized electronic devices are cause for dismissal.”

The group of monitors obeys like sheep.

“I think he remembers us.” Stiles guesses.

“Of course he remembers _you_.” Scott tells him. “You once dumped a shovelful of wet dirt in his swimming trunks. No one would ever forget _that_.”

“He was being mean to me!”

“You were trying to go to the deep end of the lake.”

“I’m an awesome swimmer!”

Scott lifts his brows. “Stiles, you were seven and you didn’t know how to swim.”

“See, he was being completely irresponsible letting me in the water without any floaters on.” Stiles decides. “Thank you for proving my point.”

“You threw the floaters at his face and ran towards the lake.” Scott tells him, unhelpfully.

“Because he was being mean to me, Scotty! Try to keep up.”

Scott rolls his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

Each cabin has a small common area where there are a few couches and a foosball table. Upstairs there’s the kid’s common bathroom, as well as a big room containing four similar bunk beds housing eight children within the same age group. Downstairs, aside from the living room, there’s also a second bedroom with two twin beds and a private bathroom for both monitors.

Their door is always unlocked, in case a camper needs anything during the night.

It’s also right next to the cabin’s exit, in the case any camper tries to sneak out.

Sneaking is hard, Stiles knows it from past experience. Even if you get past the monitors, which is a feat all in its own (for years, Stiles thought that being a light sleeper was a pre-requisite for the monitor position), you still have to watch out for the night guards outside.

Sneaking out is hard, yeah, but it’s not impossible.

Maybe Stiles can share some of his secrets with a couple campers.

Approaching the cabin assigned to him, Stiles hopes his co-monitor is someone cool, someone who is not overly strict and with whom he can have a good time. Scott would’ve been his ideal pick, but his hopes were shattered when their keys displayed different cabin numbers.

Stiles stays positive, though.

Besides, Scott and Stiles will still have plenty of time to spend together and have tons of fun, since they are monitoring children in the same age group, and campers from different cabins within the same ages have activities together.

So they’ll still have plenty of time to get into touble, however little they are (because Stiles loves his best friend wholeheartedly, yet he also loves the thrill that danger prickles along his skin, how his heart beats faster and his body buzzes with adrenaline whenever he gets away with anything, whether it's stealing an apple from Mr. Oscar’s apletree when he was little to snooping around his dad’s files).

Stiles turns the knob to his room, suitcase in hand, and the worst possible sight welcomes him. Derek is lying on one of the beds, bare-chested on the gray wolf covers, wearing nothing but a pair of sweat pants and holding a book between his sturdy hands, the paperback sitting in his stomach doing little to conceal the trail of hair peeking from under his pants.

Okay, so maybe Stiles’ boner disagrees with his statement a little bit.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asks, comprising the length of the room in a swooping hand motion.

Derek slowly lifts his eyes from the pages of his book like it physically pains him. “This is my cabin.” He says, brows furrowing like Stiles mere presence personally offends him.

“Oh, don’t act like you are not the one responsible for this!” Stiles accuses.

Derek snorts, eyes trailing back to his book. “And why would I do that?”

“You said you’d keep your eyes on me. Everyone heard it! What better way of doing that than to keep me on a 24/7 surveillance? And to think I could’ve roomed with Scott.” Stiles complains with every ounce of reason on his side, slapping his own forehead.

“Don’t be so overly dramatic.” Derek says, gently flipping over a page of his book, the mundane gesture somehow gripping Stiles’ eyes.

“I’m not being dramatic.”

“Yes you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

And then they have a bit of a stare off before Derek willfully drags his eyes from Stiles and back to his book. “Yeah, I was going to keep an eye on you. During working hours when you can be a danger to the safety of our campers. Not in my cabin, where you will be a danger to _my_ campers and certainly not in my room, where you clearly will be disturbing my peace. Believe me, you are the last person I ever wanted to share a room with.”

Ouch, and that stung a bit.

“Fine!” Stiles shouts as he plunges his suitcase on top of his bed. “You are the last person I ever wanted to share a room with as well!”

And with that, Stiles turns away and walks out of the room.

“Be back by ten, when we’ll be discussing cabin rules before the campers’ arrival tomorrow morning.” Derek tells him, like everything is just _peachy_.

Stiles closes the door with a bang behind him and sets to find Scott.

Sweet, dependable Scott who is the bestest of best friends and is surely missing Stiles right about now as much as Stiles is missing him.

Maybe he’ll even agree to share a bed tonight.

Stiles can only hope.

Derek, with his impossible eyebrows and infuriating face and those fucking abs that make angels weep with each breath he takes will not be ruining his summer vacations.

Hell nah!

And of course, Scott, like every single time he’s left unattended, is making _friends_.

“Nathan is getting married!” Scott announces once Stiles is in earshot.

Wait. “What?”

“Yeah, Isaac told me right now!” Scott reveals.

Isaac offers a sympathetic smile and Stiles’ eyes narrow. “And who’s Isaac?”

“I’m dating Cora, one –”

“I know who Cora is.” Stiles says, cutting him off with an open palm.

“He’s also my co-monitor. Who’s yours?” Scott asks, clearly excited.

“Derek.” Stiles deadpans.

Scott’s smile falters, a scowl settling in his place and Stiles hates Derek a little bit more. “Oh, crap. No!”

“Oh yes.” Stiles nods. “He’s already succeeding on making this the worst summer ever, Scott! I need to take a walk. You can talk to me about Allison, I need to take my head off Derek and his plans to ruin my life.”

Scott chuckles.

“Roommates are assigned automatically through the computer system.” Isaac offers, looking between the two friends with a look of bewilderment in his eyes. “It’s hardly Derek’s fault.”

“Excuse me?” Stiles asks, his ears clearly deceiving him.

 _Everything_ is Derek’s fault.

Kids starving in Africa, check. Titanic’s tragic plunge into an iceberg? Check. The reason why there’s no white chocolate only Chocapics? Check.

Scott shakes his head at Isaac. “It’s a thing they have going on.” He says, pushing Stiles away. “I’ll see you later.” Scott waves.

Isaac waves unsurely.

“How so, it’s a thing we have going on?” Stiles asks.

“Isaac is dating Derek’s sister.” Scott reminds him.

“I already know –” And then Stiles comes to a realization. “Oh, speaking poorly of her brother, even if truthfully, could get him into trouble. I get it.”

Scott nods with a tiny smile on his lips.

“So, how is technological shutdown treating you?” Stiles asks.

Scott grimaces. “I miss Allison so much, dude. I wish she had been able to come with and I get that she wants to spend time with her dad, after what happened with her mom. I just think that, maybe a month would’ve been enough, instead of the _whole_ summer.”

“Scott.” Stiles says, knowing Scott can get a little carried away when the subject is Allison.

“Yeah, I know, Allison deserves all the time she needs to sort this out. I could never imagine losing my mom.”

Stiles can, though, knowing too well what Allison is going through.

“How is being away from your games treating _you_?” Scott asks.

“Let’s not talk about it!” Stiles states firmly.

“Think you’ll be able to go the whole summer without them?” Scott asks, teasingly.

“I’m totally capable of spending a month without playing video games. I simply have to occupy my time with other activities, is all.”

“Please be nice to Derek.” Scott pleads.

Stiles stills in his walk. “Wow, you almost gave me whiplash.”

Scott fixes him with a stare.

“Okay, Scott. I’ll find other ways of occupying my time, not including annoying Derek. Although, if he’s an ass first, I won’t have any qualms being an ass right back at him.”

Scott rubs both hands down his face and shakes his head. “God help us all.” He mumbles.

After wandering around the woods a bit longer, they head back towards the camp, their shadows bigger than before as the sun sets over the tree line and dips into the horizon, painting the sky a mix of oranges, yellows and reds that become blues and purples by the time they arrive to the dining hall.

“Scott, here, I saved you a spot!” Isaac calls from one of the tables, sitting with a big dude and a hot blonde, a tray waiting by his side.

“Thanks, Isaac!” Scott waves and walks towards the table.

Stiles rolls his eyes and heads towards the cafeteria’s line.

“And hello to you too.” Stiles says as he finally approaches the table, a tray in hand, pulling a chair and letting the four legs drag along the floorboards with a screech. “Are these more friends of Derek?” He asks, setting down the tray.

“Stiles, be nice.” Scott reprimands.

Stiles snorts. “I’m always nice.”

This is Scott’s turn to snort, and Isaac snorts as well. “These are Erica and Boyd.” Scott provides, anyway. “This is Stiles.”

Erica tilts her head, a smile spreading on her lips while Boyd regards him with stoic curiosity. “I take it you’re not a member of Derek’s fan club.”

“That’s an understatement.” Scott remarks.

“And would also be a conflict of interests.”

“Why so?”

“I preside his hate club.”

Erica chuckles. “Nice one and I appreciate your honesty. I’ll even admit Derek can be a little bit intense, especially this year.” She says while taking a bite from her apple.

Chewing a piece of steak, Stiles is happy to note the food is as good as he remembers.

“I was going to say he can be a _big_ grump, not to mention a total asshole.” Stiles reiterates, while stuffing more food into his mouth.

“I suppose those fit Derek pretty well too.” Erica agrees.

Boyd fixes her with a questioning gaze, munching on a deliciously looking muffin.

Stiles ponders Erica's words. “Hum, I guess you’re cool, then.”

Erica then presents Boyd with a flashing grin as she takes a crunching bite from her apple and Boyd shakes his head, some kind of weird silent communication going on between the two.

Stiles looks around, feeling like something is missing. “Where is Derek, anyway?” He asks, realizing the cafeteria is far too cheery.

“He’s probably in a fancy dinner with his family, going over details about the wedding and dying of boredom.” Erica reveals.

Stiles narrows his eyes in confusion. “That seems to be an event Derek would find appealing. Going over guest lists, making a detailed schedule, deciding on what decorations to buy and choosing between blood orange and myrtle blue; it’s all so pretentious and boring, so it would suit him perfectly.”

Boyd snickers under his breath, crumbs sprinkling the side of his mouth. “You’re funny.” He says, turning to Erica, who is setting the apple core on her empty plate. “I think Tyler and Eric must’ve started a food fight already, so he at least is having some fun.”

“Probably, or he has started one himself.” Isaac guesses.

Boyd chuckles. “Derek is more the kind of guy to sneak out of the bathroom’s window – covert, low key, under the radar.”

Stiles gapes and looks between the three of them, uncaring that his mouth is full of chewed up food and wondering if he has somehow fallen into an alternate dimension. Maybe he is in the Twilight Zone.

“It’s like they don’t know Derek _at all_.” He whispers to Scott, swallowing and picking up his pudding, moaning around a spoonful.

Scott rolls his eyes, probably jealous of Stiles’ impeccable choosing.

He got stuck with a pear, poor guy.

“You forgot completely ridiculous.” Erica adds, turning her attention towards Stiles. “And what do you do in your free time, Stiles, aside from mad mouthing Derek, of course.”

“Oh, you know: the usual.” He says while waving his spoon around, talking about video games and the misadventures he gets to in Beacon Hills all through the night, Scott being a prominent character in both spheres of his life.

When he returns to his room, Stiles is in quite the good mood.

“I’m the one in charge here.” Derek tells him the second Stiles steps into the room, arms crossed over his chest, which really brings out his bulging biceps and nicely frames his chiseled chest. “You’ll do as I say and you’ll be keeping with the schedule. Sneaking campers out from scheduled activities, helping campers smuggle in banned items, like any kind of electronic devices or assisting them in getting out of cabin’s grounds after bedtime won’t be allowed.”

Stiles’ mouth drops. “You’ve just nixed everything fun!”

Derek lifts a palm, fixing him with a ‘I’m having none of your shit’ glare. “No discussion is allowed in the aforementioned points.”

“Gee, anything else, General?” Stiles inquires with biting sarcasm.

Derek’s eyebrows furrow. “Light in our room goes out at eleven.”

Stiles throws his arms in the air, immensely frustrated, and storms out, heading over to Scott’s cabin where he can vent his thoughts.

“I hate Derek.” Stiles informs the room housing Scott, Isaac, Erica and Boyd, the four of them playing foosball.

Scott looks back, surprised. “Oh, it’s you, Stiles.” He says, the look of surprise giving way to a cheerful smile.

“I foresee a pattern.” Erica says, amused.

Both Boyd and Isaac smile, Boyd’s a little more guarded while Isaac’s full on presumptuous and if Stiles was the type to speculate, he would say Isaac is making fun of him.

“We were playing foosball, wanna play?” Scott asks.

“You can fill in for me, since I’m going to meet Cora.” Isaac offers and Stiles is more than pleased to see him go.

Over the next half hour, Stiles learns that Boyd and Erica are kind of an invincible team at foosball, and that Erica is not above shoving her victories in her opponent’s faces. Scott and Stiles end the night losing by a far too wide margin for any of them to even bother keeping a score.

They have just swapped foosball by go fish when Isaac and Cora climb up the porch’s steps.

“I advise against any mad mouthing of Derek while in Cora’s presence. She is a little protective of her older brother.” Erica tells him with a dangerous smile playing on her lips, trailing a finger along her throat.

Stiles gulps, nodding.

Erica full on grins and Boyd covers his snickering over an open palm. Erica and Boyd, Stiles realizes, are as evil as Laura is.

They play various card games, and this time, it’s Stiles who rubs his victories in everybody else’s face, mostly Erica’s

It’s somewhat cathartic.

When he returns to his cabin, Derek is preparing to go to bed.

“Lights go out in five.” He warns.

Stiles’ mouth closes in a thin line, his good mood gone. In Erica’s words, Stiles is starting to foresee a pattern.

 

* * *

 

Only when the buses arrive the next day, the lively sound of children’s laughter dancing through the summer air at the ungodly hour, does Stiles remembers half of the reasons he decided to be a monitor during summer.

Best of all, his cabin is getting six year-olds.

And yeah, okay, they are the most problematic in terms of tantrums and home sickness and require a little more supervision than any other age, but they are also so adorable.

Stiles is at a loss for words.

“Stiles, you’ll have to single handedly escort our campers to the auditorium.” Derek tells him and Stiles waves him off before remembering what for.

Every year, at the beginning of summer camp, Camp Lake Hale organizes an assembly with all the campers where there is a speech – a very boring speech. Stiles suspects this year’s will be even more boring, since Derek will be the one speaking. Nathan usually snuck his campers out and Stiles and Scott always enjoyed a good one hour of swimming in the lake while everyone else was stuck inside the auditorium’s walls.

Of course, Nathan, as a Hale, saw little consequence.

Stiles, for the same behavior, might face an early dismissal.

A plan quickly stars shaping in Stiles’ mind, though, and so, after calling out the names of his campers from a spreadsheet and introducing himself to the youngsters, he leads them to the auditorium and sets off to find Laura.

Nathan might be a little preoccupied with engagement related duties, but there is still a Hale sibling Stiles knows might help him out.

Thank God he’s not on usher duty, or sneaking out from his position by the exit doors would be more easily noticed.

“Laura!” Stiles greets when he finds her talking with Tyler and Eric.

“Just a second, Stiles.” She asks. “Now, you two go sit with the other kids.” She tells them in a voice that leaves no space for argument.

“Okay.” Eric, the youngest, slurs.

“No!” Tyler argues, grabbing his brother’s sleeve, who's already turning to leave. “We wanna swim in the lake. This is bo-ing.” He says, apparently struggling with his missing tooth.

Laura’s eyes flicker towards Stiles and back towards her cousins. “I promise you this will be over in a couple of minutes.” She assures them with a wink.

Tyler, satisfied, lets his brother go and they both set off to take their seats amongst the crowd of restless kids and hapless monitors.

“They are big.” Stiles remarks. “Last time I saw Eric, he was just a couple months old.”

“Yes, they are.” Laura agrees. “Though I’m certain you didn’t come here just to chat about my cousins.”

“Is the fire protocol still the same?” He asks.

Laura chuckles. “Yes, it is. And there is a fire alarm downstairs.” She tells him, looking around. “Come with me and I’ll show you a quick way towards it, before Derek comes out of his batcave.” Laura hurries. “He has a speech prepared.” She reveals with a cringe.

Stiles shares the sentiment.

“Thanks, Laura, you’re the best.” He says, while they’re climbing down the stairs.

“You’ll be doing all of us a favor.” Laura admits, stopping by the fire alarm. “You’ll have to wait at least until Derek starts speaking before sneaking down here.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

Laura sighs. “I confess I’m feeling a little guilty.” She tells him when they start walking back upstairs. “Derek really spent a long time preparing this speech.”

“Just think of the children!” Stiles pleads, dramatically and Laura laughs.

“Yeah, I’ll think of the children. Now go join your campers and please look inconspicuous, Stiles, or Derek will know everything is our fault.” She says, rushing him along and Stiles hurries back to his seat, joining his campers.

“Will this take long, ‘Tiles?” Asks little Tommy, his legs bouncing up and down.

Stiles shakes his head with a smirk tilting the corner of his lips.

Scott, sitting in the row in front of him turns around. “What have you been up to?” He asks, like he knows exactly what Stiles has been up to – trouble – and disapproves greatly.

“Are you training your disapproving father look already?” Stiles asks.

Scott doesn’t as much roll his eyes as he drags them around their eye sockets, completely done with his shit.

Stiles throws both hands up in the air. “C’mon, Scotty, don’t worry. Besides, you’ll thank me later, I promise.” Stiles says, patting his best friend’s shoulder. “Embrace plausible deniability buddy, it’s a precious tool, a gift, even.”

Scott narrows his eyes, but turns towards the stage, taking Stiles’ advice.

A little while later, Derek appears from behind the curtains, some of the kids already kicking chairs and pulling hairs.

Stiles has had to sooth two tearful children by now.

Scott, his dad, Melissa and half the population of Beacon Hills may think Stiles is a menace, but Derek Hale is the real menace here, not him.

“Welcome, boys and girls, to Camp Lake Hale. Our goal here is to entertain and, while we hope this summer teaches you about responsibility and autonomy, Camp Lake Hale is, most of all, a place where you'll have the best time of your lives.” Derek reads from a piece of paper in impossibly good conditions, almost like Derek took the time to iron it.

Stiles turns to his campers, then. “Look, kiddos, you’ll have to behave for a little while, okay? I promise you’ll be able to go outside and have fun when I get back. Before that, there may be some commotion. Don’t worry. Keep calm and follow Scott here.” He says, ruffling his best friend’s hair.

They nod.

“Take care of my campers.” Stiles tells Scott.

Scott nods, no questions asked.

And then Stiles is off to let the fun times begin.

Derek is so absorbed in his speech that he doesn’t notice Stiles sneaking along the walls of the auditorium unto the backstage, slipping through a door and climbing down a flight of stairs before he is face to face with salvation.

“I’m not sorry.” Stiles states as his palm grips the handle. “Your speech is boring and you are boring and please don’t find out about this.” He pleads, pulling the handle down.

A siren immediately starts ringing, buzzing loudly in his ears as sprinklers start raining down over him, soaking his clothes and slowing him down.

Stiles quickly climbs up the stairs and peeks out the backstage door, wet clothes clinging uncomfortably to his skin.

Taking advantage of the mayhem settled in the auditorium, Stiles joins the crowd while directing kids towards the exit.

He notices a girl falling down on the stairs, about to be run over, and pulls her up in his arms, falling back against the wall.

“Are you alright?” Stiles asks the little girl.

She nods, lips trembling and eyes drowned in tears.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll get you out of here.” He promises with a smile, thinking of how he didn’t exactly thought this through.

Well, Stiles shrugs, it’s all someone else’s fault.

Like Laura’s, for letting him do this, or Derek’s, for being B-O-R-I-N-G.

“That’s spelled boring.” Stile says.

“What is?” The little girl asks.

“Nothing.” Stiles says, shaking his head, getting up and helping the girl up as well, all while ignoring his slightly aching back.

“Let’s get out, it’s raining.” She urges, pulling Stiles by the sleeve of his camp vest, almost like she’s the one doing the saving. “ _Inside_.” She says, like the idea personally insults her.

Stiles chuckles and follows suit.

The burning, summer sun is bliss to his shivering bones. Of course, Stiles will only feel truly comfortable once he steps out of his wet clothes and into something dry and un-clingy.

“Maddison, where are you?” Erica is calling out.

“That’s my monitor.” Maddison informs him. “Will you be alright, ‘Tiles?” She asks, reading his name tag.

“I’ll manage.” Stiles shrugs and little Maddie pulls him down, kissing him on the cheek and running off to join her fellow campers.

What a sweetheart, Stiles thinks.

“This is a disaster!” Derek is telling his two sisters.

Stiles’ mouth opens when he sees him, dark green Henley completely soaked and doing little to hide every curve, every muscle, every tendon of his muscular body. Stiles has seen Derek shirtless before, he has, yet this is something else, a work of art carved by the skillful hands of Donatello, Auguste Rodin or Michelangelo, every feature of his body magnified, the fabric of his shirt clinging in all the right places, wrapping around strong forearms, molding over his toned back and sticking to each of his adonis like abs.

“If there was a fire, it’s out now.” Alice, Peter’s wife, informs after a patrol around the auditorium.

“Quite unfortunate, this whole thing, with all the trouble you had writing your speech.” Peter says with a tsk and a shake of his head, the Hale family trading conspiratorial looks.

“That doesn’t matter right now.” Derek affirms. “What I want to know is what are we going to do during the next forty five minutes? Nothing is ready, everything is late! This is a disaster.” He panics.

Stiles approaches the circle of Hales. “The lake is ready.” He points out and five sets of eyes lock on him, which is a little intimidating and makes him slightly stutter. “A-and everyone is already wet.” He says, shrugging.

Derek’s eyes narrow and his eyebrows furrow, like he suspects this is somehow Stiles’ fault. Stiles, though, only notices how low Derek’s tight jeans are hanging off his hips and how his shirt clings to his heavenly hipbones.

Stiles crosses his legs, trying to hide a blooming boner.

“Fine.” Derek finally mutters, like he really wants to say ‘no’ but can’t really think of any reason against Stiles’ brilliant offer.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles gathers his campers in a neat tidy circle and makes sure everyone made it out of the cafeteria. Last week, Andy, who’s afraid of water, hid under the chairs of the auditorium for one hour.

Derek called Stiles irresponsible.

Stiles called Derek irresponsible right back. Bless Scott for realizing one of Stiles’ kids was missing, though.

Scott is the best.

“Everyone’s here. Let’s go.” Stiles commands.

“What are we doing this time?” Tommy asks, excited.

Andy crosses his fingers. “Please, don’t let it be the lake.”

“Is one of your kids afraid of water? What a woose.” Jackson sneers and Stiles rolls his eyes. Great, Jackson Douchemore is having archery at the same time he is.

Scott and Stiles only learned Jackson was one of the other camp monitors after the auditorium fiasco, during lunch time. Apparently Jackson’s father thought a summer job was a good way to ‘build character’, so here was Jackson along with his Porch, parked in the camp’s parking lot.

“And Lydia tells me you slept with a stuffed elephant until you were twelve.” Stiles says and the kids laugh, even Jackson’s campers.

Jackson’s face becomes as red as a chili pepper. “You’ll pay for this, Stilinski!” He says, quickening his pace.

“Bring Mr. Pink!” Stiles asks and Jackson only walks faster.

Realizing he’s in the presence of kids, Stiles adds – “Only make fun of people if they make fun of you first.” He tells them. “And being afraid is nothing to be embarrassed about, Andy. We are all afraid of something.”

Andy nods. “Thanks, ‘Tiles.”

Jackson is still furious when they arrive at the archery field and Stiles is really happy all camp arrows have a rubber point, or else he would fear for his life.

“Hello, Stiles.” A familiar voice greets him.

Stiles turns around and, yup, his ears are not deceiving him, it is Allison, Scott’s girlfriend, who should be cruising around the country with her dad, in their super rad RV. “What are you doing here?”

Allison chuckles. “Geez, Stiles, don’t act so happy to see me.”

“No, it’s not that. I only thought you’d be in other places.” Stiles explains, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

“Well, the Hales needed a part time archery tutor, since Cassidy is busy with the weeding preparations and a property a couple of miles from here needed guns for hunting season.” Allison reveals. "So here I am."

And suddenly, a light goes on in Stiles’ mind. “Cassidy is marrying Nathan!” He says, snapping his fingers as he puzzles everything together.

“Yes, she is.” Allison says.

Well, that explains all the funny looks the other Hales sent them whenever they appeared out of nowhere during Stiles’ camp years, looking sheepish.

“Wait, how do you know the Hales?” Stiles asks.

“Arthur Hale had a different last name before he married Talia.” Allison reveals.

Stiles slaps his head. “Of course, he used to be an Argent!”

Allison nods. “Yeah, and I spent every summer from when I was six until I was twelve here.”

“I didn’t really remember seeing you there, then again –”

“At that age boys were disgusting.”       “At that age girls were disgusting.”

Both Stiles and Allison laugh, hugging each other.

“How are you?” Stiles asks. “Remember, you can be honest with me.”

Allison nods, her head rested in Stiles’ shoulder. “It still hurts, although I’m getting used to it. Is it bad if I feel guilty whenever me and my dad laugh or have a good time? ‘Cause I do.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Nope, it’s not bad at all. You just need to remember your mom would want you to be happy.”

"I know." Allison whispers. 

“I’m here, we can begin.” Boyd says, a while after, at precisely the right time, since the only person more impatient than the kids is Jackson, still looking like he has a stick up his ass.

Allison turns to Stiles, questioningly.

“Go ahead; my co-monitor is a lazy ass.” Stiles bitingly reveals.

Allison shakes her head, a smile still on her lips. “You shouldn’t talk like that in front of the kids.” She advises, beginning the lesson while the three monitors prevent any tantrums or name calling from escalating.

Their luck is that there is a target for every camper, so no child has to wait for their turn.

Stiles can imagine the fights.

Derek arrives when the lesson is almost over, Allison letting the kids play by themselves, only making small corrections when a kid is shooting the blunt edge towards the target or aligning their throw with the target if it’s too far off, partaking in Boyd and Stiles’ congratulatory chants while Jackson pushes his kids for better results ( _hit the targets, you losers!_ ).

“I’m sorry for taking so long.” Derek apologizes.

“You could have been gone the entire day, for all I care.” Stiles says, patting Derek on the back and sticking a bull’s eye to his dark shirt. Derek’s trademark furrow returns, which is for the better, Derek’s face becoming peculiarly appealing without the deep crease of his brows.

And then, the unthinkable happens.

Derek and Allison _hug_.

And it’s not a formal hug, it’s a _I’m happy to see you_ hug, the sort of hug Stiles and Scott will most likely partake after being apart their first semester of college.

 “You should visit more often, Allison, we miss our favorite cousin.” Derek says, hugging her tightly with a weird up tilt of his lips.

Derek Hale, king of all things boring, is _smiling_.

“I miss you guys too.” Allison says.

“Will you be coming to the wedding?” Derek asks, stepping back.

“Yes, I am.” She reveals and Derek pulls Allison for yet another hug.

Stiles coughs, kind of annoyed, and they both look at him. “You know each other?”

“No, I just walk around hugging random pedestrians.” Derek delivers with a straight face, Stiles being a good 79 % sure he’s joking.

“You are friends?” Stiles asks, louder and more indignantly this time, addressing Allison, who’s more likely to give him an answer he will understand.

“Of course we are.” Allison says, like there’s no reason they shouldn’t be. Like Derek isn’t a sulky and mean party-pooper while Allison is a happy and kind Disney princess.

It’s like nothing makes sense anymore.

“Wait, you know each other?” Derek asks in return.

“Yeah, he’s Scott’s friend.” Allison reveals.

“Scott’s friend…” Derek says, eyes widening. “Your Scott and Stiles’ Scott are the same Scott?” He asks, looking a little confused.

“Yes.” Allison answers, her voice unsure.

Derek arches an eyebrow. “The ‘kindest’, most ‘goodhearted’ person you have ever met is friends with the kid that had fun kicking me in the chins when he was younger?”

Allison chuckles and Stiles snickers, his palm doing little to conceal his cackles and snorts, Derek schooling him with an angry glare.

“Stiles’s actually kind and goodhearted too, once you get to know him.” She reveals and Derek’s look is skeptical. “Of course, first you need to fall on his good graces. It involves breaking the law, video games and curly fries.”

“Hey, don’t go around ditching all my secrets.” “Oh is that all?”

Allison rolls her eyes at both of them. “Where were you, anyway, Der? You’re late!”

“I had to take one of Erica and Cora’s girls to the infirmary and then the reception phone was ringing. It was a dad.” Derek says with a suffering sigh. “Of course I was the one that had to pick it up, since Laura is shopping for bridesmaids’ dresses, along with Alice, my mom and Cassidy, while my Dad and Uncle Peter are with Nathan looking for groomsmen suits. I, of course, was left behind, the man in charge.” His tone almost sounds sarcastic, Stiles thinks. “Not to mention one of the wood boards from Isaac’s cabin is broken and I had to fix it.”

Stiles didn’t realize Derek had so much work, due to the weeding happening.

He almost feels guilty when all the kids start targeting Derek when he turns around.

“Stiles –” Derek starts, turning around, a hapless expression setting on his face when he realizes the kids are the ones responsible.

It almost breaks Stiles’ heart.

“You have a target on your back.” Allison says with a chuckle.

“Stiles!” Derek mutters with renewed intent upon removing the sticker.

“Derek is a lazy ass.” The kids chant in unison.

Stiles squeaks in horror while Allison starts cackling. "I told you so."

Derek’s furrow deepens. “STILES!”

“I have to go to the bathroom, Derek, please take care of the kids while I’m gone!” Stiles squawks, running away as fast as his skinny legs and rusty joints allow him, hearing Derek’s strong footsteps strutting after him while Allison wheezes, out of breath from laughing so hard.

 

* * *

 

 

When Scott sees Allison at the cafeteria’s steps, his face brightens and he leaps into her arms, his legs wrapping around Allison’s hips.

“Kids, go ahead with Erica and Cora, this might turn a little rated R.” Stiles advises.

“What is rated R?” Albert asks.

“Rated R is how I walk around my apartment.” Erica says. “Meaning it’s none of your business.”

The kids groan but follow Erica anyway.

Derek clears his throat a few awkward seconds later and Scott finally unattaches himself from Allison, both of them looking at Derek expectantly.

“So, you’re dating my cousin.” Derek remarks and crosses his arms over his chest, giving Scott a critic once over.

Scott looks at Allison questioningly, a glint of panic in his eyes.

Allison’s answer is a curt nod.

Scott gulps, gaining courage. “It seems I am, sir.”

Derek’s lip quivers and if Stiles didn’t know any better, he would say Derek is holding back a smile. “If you hurt her, she’ll punch you.”

Scott blinks a couple of times and Allison rolls her eyes. “That only happened once!” She says, before pulling Scott along into the cafeteria.

They are not sitting in any of the tables when Stiles gets around to their usual spot, Isaac, Cora, Erica and Boyd already there, Derek sitting down opposite him.

Eating with Derek is actually manageable, Stiles has learned, if he ignores his presence.

Stiles actually laughs when, seventeen minutes later, Derek gets up, cleans his mouth and heads into the bathroom, coming out with Scott by one ear, Allison strolling behind them and looking slightly amused with the situation.

After lunch break they head out for arts and crafts and, Stiles has learned, it being an activity all first graders have in common doesn’t make it any more fun, since arts and crafts is pretty cut and dry.

The kids are building a bird house (and Stiles has hammered his finger more than a couple of times, a painful event his campers found tremendously hilarious), so they are basically baby-sitters, making sure the kids don’t hurt themselves or each other.

There is even extra personal to help, in the name of security.

Even with all the extra help, Stiles soon finds out that, even if while being a camper this is one of the most boring activities ever, if you are a monitor, it’s fucking exhausting.

“I want to do it by myself!” Tommy whines.

“Then do it by yourself.” Stiles tells him.

“How can I do anything by myself with you almost on top of me, ‘Tiles?” Tommy complains. “Step back, you’re being an ass.”

Stiles regrets ever uttering out that god forsaken word in front of the campers.

“I rather be an ass than to have you nail your fingers to the worktable.” Stiles reiterates.

Tommy sighs, yet complies.

When Stiles manages not to nail _his_ fingers to the worktable, his shirt is being tucked on

“Watch him!” Stiles orders one of the assistants, as he kneels down in front of a tearful Jake. “What’s wrong, buddy?” He asks.

“I got a splinter.” Little Jake manages between broken sobs, showing Stiles his finger and, yup, Stiles can see the splinter digging in his thumb.

“Oh, do you want me to kiss the booboo away?” Stiles asks and Jake nods.

Stiles gently takes the child’s finger into his hand and closes his lips over the tip of his thumb. “Is it all better now?”

Jake shakes his head. “No.” He says, snuffling. “You did it wrong.”

Stiles chuckles, looking up. “Derek, come here!” He orders and Derek is by his side in less than a second, which he actually finds impressive. “Go get me some tweezers.”

“I’m not your servant.” Derek growls, but complies with Stiles’ request anyway.

Stiles turns his attention back to Jake. “Well, what do you say if we smash that bird house, show it who’s the boss?”

“Yes, let’s do it!” Jake says while nodding his head fervently.

“Then take me to your spot and we’ll show that evil bird house who’s the boss.” He says, taking Jake’s hand into his.

“I’m the boss!” Jake shouts, waving his little fist in the air.

“Yeah, buddy, you’re the boss.” Stiles agrees as they walk towards the workstation.

“Can I use the hammer by myself?” Jake asks when they get there, eyeing the tool with curiosity.

 “You can try, if you're able to lift it.” Stiles tells him.

“Of course I can lift it, ‘Tiles. I’m the boss.” Jake states, like the whole idea of not being able of lifting a hammer is an insult to his newfound status. Of course, when his tiny little fists wrap around the handle of the hammer, he only manages to raise it a few inches, before dropping it back down with a thud. “It’s too heavy, ‘Tiles.”

That pout shouldn’t be so adorable.

“Want me to help out?” Stiles asks.

Jake rocks his head back and forth.

Stiles steps closer, wrapping his hands over Jake’s and helping him swing the hammer, pieces of wood flying in random directions while the bubbly sound of Jake’s laughter fills the room. There’s something about a child’s laughter, something that swells inside of him, warm and cuddly, spreading his lips in a wide grin.

“I’ve brought the tweezers and also a band aid.” Derek announces, voice soft, sounding almost fond for some reason.

Derek Hale is becoming weirder by the second.

“Well, it’s about time.” Stiles remarks, taking the items from Derek's hand and his familiar scowl returns. “Why are you still looking at me like an idiot? Clear the damn workstation!”

Derek’s scowl deepens. “Don’t boss me around.” He mutters, fetching a garbage bag and swooshing the broken bird house inside.

Stiles notices a piece nested between the dark locks of Derek’s slick hair.

“You’re so ridiculous.” He notes, picking up the small wood piece and placing it inside the bag, along with the others, then placing Jake on top of the work bench and carefully removing the splinter. “You’re being a really brave little man, Jake, wait a little bit more.” Stiles says as Jake sniffs a little bit, covering the resulting wound with an orange and blue stripped band aid.

“All better now.” He sooths.

Helping Jake’s restless feet back to the floor, Stiles finds Derek looking at him strangely once again, no sign of his usual frown.

“Do I have any wood splinters in my hair too?” Stiles asks, hands ruffling through his hair anyway.

“I thought so, but then I realized it was only your hair.”

 _Fuck you_ Stiles thinks as he narrows his eyes.

Also, three more campers smash their bird houses.

Everyone blames Stiles, except for Derek, who stays silent for the rest of the day. Stiles would think Derek is avoiding him if he didn’t know Derek actually strives on making Stiles’ life as miserable as he possibly can. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Stiles will you be quiet?” Derek asks.

Stiles freezes his legs mid air, his hands left hovering over his tummy and his tongue snapping trough the ceiling of Stiles’ mouth with a pop. “You were hearing that?”

“Yes, Stiles, aliens in space were hearing that.” Derek rolls his eyes, although his tone isn’t as rough as Stiles would otherwise expect.

“I’m so bored, Derek, so very, very bored.”

“What about Scott?” Derek asks, absent mindedly.

“He’s spending his day off with Allison.”

Derek sighs, closing his book with a thud. “How do you guys usually spend the time?” He asks, getting up from his bed.

“Are you serious?” Stiles asks, surprised, blinking his eyes a few times to make sure he’s actually awake and not dreaming.

Derek looks like he’s regretting this already. “And I’m lying back down in five, four, three –”

 “Foosball!” Stiles utters out.

Derek nods. “Then come along.” He waves, heading out of the room and into the living area with Stiles right behind him, still not believing he’s actually going to play foosball with Derek. “Prepare to have your ass kicked.” Derek tells him, a smirk tilting the corner of his lips up, his hands wrapping around the handles.

“Oh, are you really? I happen to be a pro at foosball.”

“Erica says you play like a girl.”

Stiles’ fists tighten around the handles, eyes narrowing. “Derek Hale, I’m going to make you cry like a little baby for that.”

“And you’ll fail.” Derek tells him, game face on.

Stiles’ first goal might be a little skivvy, throwing the ball into the foosball table with little warning and scoring instantly.

Derek scowls, fixes Stiles with a death glare and keeps his attention on the table for the rest of the game. The game is hard fought, Stiles sometimes scoring by sheer luck and, other times, by applying complicated maneuvers while Derek prefers simple, to the point strategies, which are ultimately proven equally effective.

“I’m sick of this, let’s play some cards!” Stiles says after four of five rounds.

“I don’t really know how to play any.” Derek admits, low and shy.

“That’s not a problem, I’ll teach you.” Stiles says, sitting on the couch while Derek takes a seat in front of him on the floor, a small coffee table between them where Stiles breaks the deck. “This one is really cool, you’ll see. First, you divide the deck between the players, half for each of us, in this case.” He tells Derek, sliding half the deck along the table. “Now, I put a card in the middle and say ‘ace’.”

“It’s a two of hearts.” Derek points out.

“Yes, I know. Now you put a card as well and say ‘one’.” Derek looks unsure, but complies, setting a seven of spades on top of Stiles’ card.

“Two.” Stiles says, taking the card out of his deck and flipping it around as he sets it on the table, realizing it is indeed a two, bumping his hand on top of the small pile. “You lose.”

Derek’s brows furrow the tiniest bit and he’s mouth hangs, slightly open. “When the number you say matches the card, you press your hand against the pile.” He realizes.

“Exactly, now these three cards are yours.” Stiles says, shaking his head. “We’ve just started and you’re already loosing. And just in case you’re not keeping up, first one to empty out his deck wins.” Stiles reveals, sliding the three cards towards Derek.

“I’m not an idiot, Stiles.” Derek tells him, storing the extra cards beneath his previous ones.

“You could’ve fooled me.” Stiles winks.

“Three.” Derek says, quickly setting down his card.

“Four.” Stiles says and almost immediately Derek is saying “Five”, the two of them settling in a quick paced duel, cards piling up on the center of the table. Stiles’ tongue is peeking out from his mouth, his eyes tracking each card while his hand tries to keep up with Derek’s merciless pace.

“Knave” Derek says, followed by “Damn it”, when Stiles smacks his palm on top of the ace of clubs and regards Derek with a mocking grin.

“So, are you prepared to lose?” He asks, tapping his slim pile.

“Just keep playing.” Derek mutters.

Stiles is crowned winner in the first round, and in the second, and in the third, though Derek remains persistent, always demanding another go at it and Stiles admits each round is getting harder, leaving him on the edge of his seat, sweat coating his forehead.

 The fourth round is the worst of them all.

Right now, Derek has one card left, while Stiles’ has three. Stiles has just set down a four of hearts, Derek’s hand already carrying his last card towards the haphazard heap of cards on top of the coffee table.

“Eleven.” Derek utters, a cocky smile forming in his lip as he flips over the card, revealing an eleven of clubs.

Determined not to lose, Stiles’ hand springs into motion, landing on top of Derek’s. The touch is electrifying, sending jolts throughout his skin and bristling the hair on his arms and behind his neck. He freezes, realizing how smooth Derek’s skin his beneath his own, how warm and _nice_.

Then he lifts his eyes, meeting Derek’s, his face a riddle.

“I guess you won that one.” Stiles says when Derek’s thumb moves slightly along Stiles' hand, brushing through Stiles’ own thumb. He fakes a yawn, feeling beyond awkward. “I’m really sleepy, though, so I guess I’m heading to bed. Are you coming? I mean, to your own bed, of course.” He babbles, scratching the back of his neck and filling the unbearable awkwardness hovering between them with a laugh.

“I’ll be there in a minute.” Derek tells him, tone a complete mystery.

“Alrighty then.” He says, turning around and proceeding to smother himself on his pillow, having no idea of what just happened.

 

* * *

 

“It happened to you, too?” Scott asks in a hushed voice.

“Yup, I noticed it this morning, after taking a shower. Derek’s eyes kept wandering towards me the whole way towards here and the crease between his brows deepened the more time passed and I think he’s really annoyed I haven’t said anything yet.” Stiles cackles, his hand ruffling his hair. “Must be some sort of initiation ritual.”

“I’m really happy I ain’t a monitor.” Allison says, cradling her hair.

“Lucky you.” Scott pouts, trailing his fingers through his uneven moppy hair.

“Stilinski, you’re doing something about this, right?” Jackson approaches the group, sneaking inside the small circle, fuming with anger.

“That’s none of your business.” Stiles remarks and spares Jackson’s blonde hair a once over. “Besides, you can simply throw a few branches in there and no one will tell the difference.”

“Don’t tell me you’re becoming a pussy.” Jackson sneers. “I might dislike you, but I can admit pranking is your only forte.”

“Stop with the compliments, Jackson, I have a plan. I’m just not telling _you_ about it.”

“Just make sure it’s good!” Jackson warns him.

“Stiles –”

“Scott, cut it.” Stiles tells his best friend, holding up his hand. “Derek is not going to mind a few pranks too much. He’s actually a pretty cool dude, unlike the blatant lies you insist spreading about him. Derek is busy running a camp, so he’s bound to be a little bit tired from time to time, which is totally understandable.”

Scott’s jaw drops, and like this, Stiles can really tell how uneven his jaw really is.

Allison and Scott’s hands spring to his forehead while Jackson slaps the back of his head. “Hey!” Stiles complains, waving their hands off. "What are you doing?"

Allison chuckles. “Sorry.”

Scott shares a conspiratorial look with Allison, a smirk on his lips. “Maybe we should still take him to a hospital, might be head trauma.”

“I was just trying to jerk your bolts back into place.” Jackson tells him, his smug smile telling Stiles exactly how much he liked hitting him.

“You’re all exaggerating.” He says, caressing the back of his head.

“Stiles, you’re always going on and on about how boring and intransigent the guy is, never shying off of telling anyone you hate the guy. This is kind of an extreme change.”

“No, Scott, you're just projecting. You hate Derek. I simply, in my childhood innocence, left your misunderstanding of Derek garble my own view.”

Scott rolls his eyes. “Then you’re doing nothing?”

“I already told Jackson, who for some reason is still here, that I was going to take matters into my own hands. Have a little faith in me, Scotty. I know what I’m doing.” Stiles says, patting his best friend on the arm and walking back towards his table, his stomach rumbling. 

“Is everything alright?” Derek asks when Stiles sits across from him, a not so subtle eagerness coloring his voice.

“Yes, why, anything I should know?” Stiles asks, knowing this whole thing is leaving Derek completely and utterly mad.

“No, there’s nothing wrong, absolutely _nothing_.” He says, sounding annoyed, a spoon bending under his forceful fist.

Stiles can barely contain a laugh.

“Have you noticed something wrong with your hair?” Derek asks, later, when they are taking the kids to the lakeside shore.

Stiles bends upon himself and laughs until he wheezes, Derek’s brows setting on a deep frown, like a wounded puppy. “Of course I’ve noticed, Derek. I’m starting to worry you may think I have brain damage.” He points out, cleaning a stray tear from the corner of his eye.

“And why on earth would I think that?” Derek asks, dryly, though there’s a smile dancing around his lips. “You’re thinking about retaliating?”

“Maybe, maybe not, I guess we’ll have to see.” Stiles shrugs.

When they get to the lake, along with Jackson and Boyd, Derek sets the recipient he’s carrying on the sand and helps Stiles getting the kids out of their shirts, all of them already wearing their swim suits.

“Now, you guys, form a line for us to put your floaters on, like usual.” Stiles tells them, the kids fighting between themselves for first spot while Derek is already handing Andy some toys for him to play with.

Stiles takes a floater out of the recipient, swelling it up.

“I’ll never understand how you manage to fill them up so quickly.” Derek admits.

A smirk tilts the corners of his lips up, mouth quirking around the opening. “I guess I just know how to blow really well.” Stiles shrugs, refilling his lungs with precious air. “It’s a gift, really.”

Derek huffs, slightly amused, and proceeds to helping Stiles out, his chapped lips wrapping around the blower.

Stiles averts his eyes from the picture, focusing on the task at hand.

When all the kids have their floaters on, Derek’s face is a stark red and Stiles himself feels slightly out of breath.

“You can lie down for a little bit.” Stiles tells him at the same time Derek lets out a yawn.

“Are you sure?” Derek asks, unsure.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Stiles assures him. “Jackson and Boyd are here, they’ll help out. Well, Boyd will help out, I don’t know what the hell Jackson does.”

Derek nods. “Thank you.” He says with a small smile before laying a towel over the sand.

After sparing a glance over to the lake, Stiles walks towards where Andy is filling a bucket with sand and pouting when his to be castle falls apart beneath his eyes. “Andy, can you borrow me the pail and shovel?” Stiles asks, eyes flickering towards Derek, who’s still lying down, his blue Henley over his face while his beautifully tanned skin basks in the sunlight, and back to Andy.

“Are you going to help me build sand castles?” Andy asks, looking at his failed attempt. “For some reason, mine keep crumpling down.” He pouts.

“That’s because you have to use wet sand, buddy.” Stiles tells him.

“Oh.” He says. “Why?” Andy asks, bewildered.

“I would research that for you if I had a computer, but I haven’t, so I can’t.” Stiles says, grabbing the pail and shovel and taking them with him.

“Are we building sand castles?” Andy asks, following him.

“We’ll build sand castles later, if Derek doesn’t kill me.” Stiles promises.

Andy looks at Derek for a while as Stiles stuffs wet sand in the purple container. “Derek is not so bad. He’s just always so tired. Everyone is a little grumpy when they get tired.”

“That’s exactly what I told Scott.” Stiles reveals with a smile.

“’Tiles, Buck hit me!” Eddie says, running towards him with his little hand clutching his head. “He hit me twice!”

Stiles looks towards the Lake, Boyd currently holding a kid that wandered off and Jackson just standing there while Buck is chasing other campers, _Stiles’_ campers, and trying to punch them.

“Jackson, control your kid!” Stiles shouts.

“Go to hell, Stilinski!” Jackson utters back. Luckily, Boyd taps Jackson on the back, his arms crossed over his chest. One look at Boyd’s pissed off face and Jackson is scurrying off after Buck.

“Problem resolved, Eddie.” Stiles smiles, picking up the bucket full of, well, mud, which, he realizes, is surprisingly heavy.

“Thanks ‘Tiles. Thanks Boyd.” Eddie says, running to join his fellow campers in the crystal clear lake water.

“’Tiles, what are you going to do with that?” Andy asks, easily keeping up with Stiles’ slow pace. Seriously, there are sweat drops forming in his forehead.

“Just you wait and see.” Stiles says, letting out a sigh of relief as they reach Derek.

“No, don’t do that ‘Tiles.” Andy pleads, but it’s too late.

“Rise and shine.” Stiles says as he dumps the contents of the bucket all over Derek’s topless chest, mud droplets splattering across his face and swim trunks.

“What the hell!” Derek growls, jolting into a sitting position.

“This is for –” Stiles’ sentence is cut out by a very manly scream as Derek’s fingers brush across his ankles, throwing the bucket through the air while drops of wet sand wander off along the heated air as Stiles runs away with a smile on his face.

Stiles thinks he hears Derek laugh. “Wait until I catch you!” He threatens.

“Help, anyone!” Stiles says, laughing, which is probably why no one comes. “Derek’s going to kill me. Andy, ask Boyd to help you out with your sand castle. Death awaits me!” He shouts, a gulp of air being forced out of his lungs as a wall of muscles charges into him, knocking Stiles unto the ground.

Sand is also awfully hard.

“Fuck, you are ripped!” Stiles utters out while spitting a bit of sand that got its way into his mouth. He would try struggling, but Derek has both his legs and arms pinned down.

“I knew you were up to something, I just didn’t thought you would fire back so soon. Nice touch, making it seem like you were doing me a favor. ” Derek says, his mouth so close to Stiles’ ear he can feel hot puffs of air grazing over his ear, his skin shivering. “I hope we are even now.” He adds, getting up and offering Stiles a hand.

“Probably not, I still have Scott to avenge.” Stiles says.

Derek shrugs. “I’ll be waiting.” He says, before walking towards the lake and cleaning himself with the ice cold water.

Stiles lets out a sigh and waits out his boner, mud drying off in his back.

“Are you okay, ‘Tiles?” Andy asks, kneeling by his head.

“Yeah, buddy, don’t worry.” Stiles assures with a thumbs up.

“You’re a horrible person.” Andy tells him with a waving finger, like Stiles is a mere misbehaved child. “Now help me build a sand castle!” He says, dragging Stiles along.

“Okay, okay, I’ll get up!” He says as he’s pulled across the sand. “Let me just wash my back, Andy. Then I’ll help you with your sand castle.”

“Okay, just hurry up, ‘Tiles.”

“Was that it?” Jackson asks while Stiles is cleaning himself, eyeing him like he thinks Stiles is lame, which is no different than every time he looks at him, to be honest.

“Not that it concerns you, but I do have something else prepared for this afternoon.” Stiles reveals with a smirk.

 

* * *

 

 

“Damn bugs.” Derek growls as he smacks his neck once again.

Stiles chuckles. “Looks like someone forgot their anti-bug spray.”

“I didn’t forget my anti-bug spray.” Derek argues. “I sprayed myself with it as we were leaving. I don’t know what is happening.”

“Isn’t it the same spray we used on the kids?” Stiles asks.

“Yes, it is.” Derek tells him, smacking his cheek and letting out a groan.

Stiles barely controls his laughter.

“Stiles, this ain’t funny.” Derek says, frowning.

“I’m sorry, but it is. Look, maybe you forgot, because I know the camp buys the same anti-bug spray brand for everyone and neither me nor the kids have any bug bites, do you, children?”

“No!” They say in unison, if a little breathless. Stiles feels their pain, his legs aching and the oak tree casted shade doing little to sooth the summer heat.

He takes a sip out of his water bottle.

“Maybe the bugs like him because he’s an ass.” Tommy guesses and Stiles spits the water he was drinking through his mouth and out of his nose. “And bugs are asses as well. Asses and asses go well together.”

Derek sends Stiles an accusatory look.

Stiles is too busy cleaning himself to care.

“I’m hungry, tired and thirsty, ‘Tiles.” Andy says after a while and a few others voice their hunger, fatigue and thirst as well.

“Well, then maybe it’s time for a break.” He agrees.

They sit by a tree, the kids taking out their sandwiches from inside their backpacks while Derek places the small cooler on the grass.

“Hey Tommy, heads up!” Derek warns, waiting for Tommy to lift his eyes and look at him before he throws the juice box, Tommy laughing with glee when he manages to catch it.

“Throw it at me, Derek.” Logan asks and soon all the kids want in.

“They really like you.” Stiles remarks with a fond smile as he unwraps his own sandwich.

Derek snorts. “They like you way more. Besides, I’m an ass, remember?”

“Okay, that’s a little bit my fault. They like you though, really. Better than any one of us liked you in my day. They just think calling you an ass is fun.” Stiles reveals.

“Did you really hate me that much?” Derek asks, curious.

“You were always really strict. And you still are, but now you kind of let yourself have more fun, you actually play with them instead of looking like you are having the worst time of your life.”

“So, I’m still an ass?”

“Kind of, though now you are a really fun ass.”

Derek chuckles. “Well,” He ponders. “In my defense, Laura and Nathan teased me a lot and, being the youngest monitor at the time, I felt like I had to prove myself.”

“I get it.” Stiles says, happy he got to know this side of Derek.

“I’m glad. By the way, could you watch the kids while I check out the area?” Derek asks. “There’s something I want to show them.”

“Okay, as long as it’s not a wolf.” Stiles tells him.

“I know not to wander too far off. I don’t want to hit a poor, scared cub and then run away towards camp on the verge of tears.” Derek says and Stiles thinks that, perhaps, some of his memories from his camper days are a little made up.

Stiles laughs when, a few seconds later, Derek’s groan echoes between the trees.

“Be careful with the bugs!” He says between his frantic cackling.

“There aren’t any wolves, are there?” Andy asks, fearful.

“Don’t worry, Andy, I’ll punch him.” Tommy assures.

“No, you won’t. Wolves wouldn’t dare come near us because I’m the boss, wouldn’t they, ‘Tiles?” Jake asks.

“No, they wouldn’t.” Stiles agrees.

When Derek comes back, a few bug bites richer, Stiles is holding a garbage bag while the kids throw the wrapping paper and the empty juice boxes inside.

“Found what you were looking for?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah, I did.” Derek says.

“Then lead the way.” Stiles tells him as they all follow Derek, now fully rested and re-energized.

“What is it, Derek?” Logan asks.

Derek kneels over a patch of grass. “See for yourself, guys.” He says, motioning towards the ground and Stiles takes a peek over his shoulder and notices a few broken grass leaves in the grassy field, the trail forming several uneven lines.

“Trail marks.” Stiles whispers.

“It’s not a wolf, is it?” Tommy asks.

“No, you silly, the trail marks look too small for that.” Stiles points out.

Derek nods. “It’s probably a rabbit with its youngsters. The broken grass leaves are still green, so they probably were out here eating not too long ago.”

“How do you know it’s more than one?” Stiles asks, out of curiosity.

“Sometimes there are smaller depressions in the grass, less wide than the main trail.” Derek explains, turning his head towards Stiles and –

Wow, Stiles hadn’t realized he was so close to Derek, their faces only a few inches apart. From this distance he can count each eyelash trailing along Derek’s eye lids, each strand of hair between his eyebrows, notices just how green Derek’s eyes really are, how beautiful, is painfully aware of how close their mouths are, how their lips could touch if Stiles just –

Stiles takes a step back at the unexpected turn his thoughts have taken.

Derek, who kept his eyes focused on Stiles’, looks away as well and Stiles notices his ears are turning pink. “Hum, kids, do you want to see where the rabbits live?” Stiles asks.

“Yes!” The kinds answer in unison.

Stiles turns to Derek, expectant.

“Follow me.” Derek tells them, his voice hoarse and his eyes carefully trained on the ground below, following the trail.

They walk through the forest until they find a small burrow, tucked under a small depression that they both help the kids climb down.

Derek kneels behind a fallen tree trunk, silently telling them to do the same.

The kids comply, staring with wide eyes at the rabbit hole at the other side of the small burrow. Stiles is a little bit speechless himself.

“Now, does anyone have any food?” Derek asks.

“I do.” Stiles whispers, fearing he will spook the rabbits even before they come out, searching around his backpack. “I brought along a few extra sandwiches, in case anyone wanted an extra one.” He explains, handing the sandwich out to Derek.

Derek takes it in his hand, the brush of their fingers leaving a tingle in Stiles’ skin.

Derek unwraps the sandwich and takes off a little of the bread. “Now you all stay here, I’ll be right back. And don’t move, especially you, Stiles, you are really noisy when you walk.” He tells them.

“I am not!” Stiles disagrees, whispering a little bit loudly now.

Derek lifts a brow.

“Fine, I am a little bit noisy. It’s not my fault wilderness is full of cracking branches and fragile tree leaves.” Stiles argues.

Derek, however, has already jumped over the tree trunk, managing to make no noise at all as his feet land back on the ground, approaching the burrow and making absolutly zero noise. Seriously, Derek’s stealth ability is totally unnatural.

He scatters a few breadcrumbs around the entrance and a few more a couple of feet away.

“What’s he doing?” Logan asks.

“He’s leaving some food for the rabbits, so they come outside to eat it.” Stiles explains. “It’s quite ingenious, actually.” He admits, Derek already strolling back.

“Now we just wait.” Derek tells them, cowering behind the tree trunk.

“Will it take long?” Tommy asks, starting to become restless.

“Not if they’re hungry.” Derek says.

“Rabbits don’t eat people, do they?” Andy asks.

Derek turns to Andy with a ‘ _are you shitting me?’_ look.

Stiles barely holds back a laugh. “No, Andy, rabbits are herbivore. They only eat vegetables.”

“Yuck.” Logan says with a distasteful face. “Nasty.”

“My dad shares your opinion.” Stiles chuckles, shaking his head.

“Look!” Liam points out in a hushed whisper. They all turn towards the rabbit’s hole, a small, pink and curious nose peeking out of its little cave.

“He’s so cute.” Andy coos.

Three smaller rabbits emerge from the burrow then, cautious while their little noses smell the air. Catching the scent of the breadcrumbs, the four rabbits venture out, eating the food Derek left for them.

“Aw.” They all say in unison, even Stiles, yes, he’s man enough to admit it. And he’s sure Derek is at least thinking something equally gross and sweet.

“I’m never eating rabbit again.” Logan declares and both Stiles and Derek laugh.

“This was pretty neat, Derek.” Stiles admits. “We’re still not even, though.”

“You can bet we aren’t. I know you pulled this little stint.” Derek reveals, waving to the bug bites sprinkled along his neck and cheeks.

Stiles doesn’t even try denying it. “And what are you doing? Are you going to show me how big boys prank in the big leagues?”

“Maybe,” Derek smirks. “You’ll just have to wait and see, I guess.”

The second Derek gets up and they start walking back towards the camp, Stiles is already planning new pranks in the possibility Derek does retaliate. More so, Stiles is kind of wishing Derek does, mind reeling from anticipation and body buzzing with adrenaline.

Bring it on, Derek Hale, _bring it on_.

 

* * *

 

When Stiles wakes up, still a little bit sleepy, he opens his eyes slowly, waiting for them to accustom to the dim lit room.

The sounds of running water coming from inside the bathroom tells Stiles Derek is shaving, having already taken a shower after his daily morning run. It takes a little bit of persuasion for Stiles to sit up on his bed, stifling a yawn while stretching his arms, his muscles sore from all the walking and running and early waking.

Seriously, Stiles is going to need vacations from these vacations.

When he gets up from the bed, Stiles walks towards the cabinet he shares with Derek in quest of some clothes.

“Fuck!” Stiles shouts when his left foot steps on something, a sharp pain carrying through his nerve endings right to his mouth muscles. At the same time, Stiles tries muffling his screams, conscious enough to know he’s in a cabin full of kids as stars mockingly dance around his head while he’s fallen on the floor, hands clutching his throbbing foot. “Damn, shit, fuck.”

Stiles drags himself across the floor and finds the light switch.

“Ugh.” Stiles grunts as light blinds his poor retinas.

With black spots covering his view and an excruciating ache in his foot, Stiles finds the culprit of his morning hassle lying on the floor – the infamous criminal vulgarly known as a Lego piece.

Stiles, however, knows the real perpetrator is inside his bathroom.

Standing up, he heads towards the closed door, making sure not to step in any other Lego piece along the way, a few of them still scattered through the room.

“You did this!” Stiles accuses, opening the bathroom door and holding the Lego block in one hand, his foot up to show Derek the imprint of the Lego, still carved in his sore foot.

Stiles’ mouth instantly drops open at the image of Derek in nothing but a pair of boxers, a droplet of water riding down his chest while Derek’s eyes wander to the door, a surprised look in his eyes while his hand hovers mid air, holding a razor close to his shaving-cream covered features, his muscled figure shredded in steam clearly coming out of his ass because _damn_ , is he hot.

Derek’s eyebrows lift up as Stiles stays there, mouth hanging open and staring at Derek’s body like a creep. “Yes?” Derek asks.

“Hum.” Stiles says intelligently.

“Playing with children toys, are you?” Derek prompts, pointing to the Lego piece still between Stiles’ fingers before continuing shaving.

“Oh, right.” Stiles says, brain coming back online after the Derek caused shutdown, shaking the Lego block in his hand. “You put this in the floor on purpose, Derek. That is just cruel!”

“Try shaving while your face is covered in pimples!” Derek accuses, brows furrowed and mouth in a scowl after cutting himself and, as Stiles takes a closer look at the state his face is in, it isn’t the first time.

Stiles lips start quivering and then Stiles is bending between himself, laughing.

“You’re an idiot.” Derek tells him, after a chuckle.

“We both are.” Stiles says, between cackles. “That’s kind of the point. And I know in the beginning I was a bit reticent about sharing a room with you” and Derek snorts at that “I’m really happy the computer partnered us up.”

“I would be happier without the bug-bites.” Derek counters.

“No you wouldn’t.” Stiles says, and he knows it is true, already thinking of his next prank while picking up the Lego blocks from the floor in his way to the dresser.

Later in the day, after lunch, Laura appears in their way to the soccer field.

“Derek, you’re needed in the kitchen. We are expecting a big shipment today.” Laura tells him.

Derek’s eyebrows shoot up, trailing his hairline. “And why should I go?”

“A Hale has to sign the forms, little brother.” Laura says, condescendingly.

Derek rolls his eyes. “I know that, Laura. I guess my real question is, why do I have to go? Why can’t you go?”

“I’m in reception duty. Unless,” Laura starts, a devilish smirk tugging at her lips. “You want to stay on reception duty while I wait for our order to arrive. It’s supposed to arrive between two thirty and three o’clock. Those guys are always late, though, so you’ll probably have to stay put for a while, time enough for someone, say a mom or dad, to call.”

“I’m sorry, Stiles, duty calls me.” Derek says, handing him the duffle bag and heading towards the kitchen and Stiles lets out a chuckle as he sees him go.

“I always get him to do what I want.” Laura reveals, pleased with herself.

“Oh, by the way,” Derek says, looking back at them with a grin on his face. “I’ll be sure not to let Adam sneak out of his work. Maybe then they’ll finish sooner.”

“No, Derek!” Laura complains, running off behind her brother.

Stiles cackles the whole way towards the soccer field.

Arriving there, Stiles lets out an annoyed grunt at the sight of Jackson, alone, without Boyd. “Where is Boyd?” He asks.

“Clumsy John scrapped his knee and Boyd took him to the infirmary. Not that you have anything to do with that.” Jackson sneers.

“Is everything okay, ‘Tiles?” Logan asks.

“Yeah, everything is fine, Logan.” Stiles assures, dropping the duffle bag on the ground and taking out blue and orange stripped shirts, giving them to each kid.

Stiles eyes Jackson cautiously, suspiciously talking with his campers in hushed whispers.

His suspects are proven right when one of his campers suffers a very ugly fault in the first two minutes of the game.

“Jackson, what the hell was that?!” Stiles asks, voice carefully restrained while he closes his hands in a pair of tight fists, approaching Douchemore and peering over his face dangerously close.

“What are you blaming me for? Your camper is the one being a cry baby!” Jackson shouts back, pointing at Jake, his eyes flooding with tears.

In a split second, all the tension leaves his shoulders and unclenches his fist, compassion swelling in his chest.

“Are you okay, Jake?” Stiles asks, worried as he kneels down.

Jake snuffs in some snot and rubs a few tears off his eyes. “Yeah, ‘Tiles, I’m okay.” He says, nodding his little head and standing up, his scraped leg wavering.

“Are you sure? I can take you to the infirmary.” Stiles tells him.

Jake shakes his head. “No, ‘Tiles, I’m good, really. I’m the boss, remember?”

A small smile tugs at Stiles’ lips. “Yeah, you are. Just remember that a big part of being a good boss is knowing when to ask for help, alright buddy?”

“Alright,” Jake nods.

There are a few more rough plays during the game, but the kids always seem to shrug it off, ready to resume the game.

Tommy, lover of sports, actually manages to have the opponent team sweating and, gazing sideways towards Jackson, he sees the vein on his forehead is about to pop open at any time now.

“That’s it, Tommy, go for the goal!” Stiles encourages, hands forming a shell around his mouth. His mouth drops open when Tommy jumps over an attacker, not losing control of the ball for even a second.

That kid is going to be a pro someday.

 “Wow,” Logan whispers beside Stiles, staying out of the game since Jackson’s team is a player short and that would be unfair, not that Jackson deserves that level of consideration. Though, it’s important to teach the kids about fair play or whatever.

And then Tommy shoots and he scores and Stiles is applauding like a maniac, lifting Logan up from the floor and spinning him around.

“’Tiles, I’m going to be dizzy.” Logan complains and Stiles promptly puts him down, turning to Jackson with a big, victorious smile, even though they are losing three to one.

Jackson, however, is halfway across the field, Tommy already a few meters away from him. Actually, every one of the campers, even Jackson’s own, are prudent enough to leave a good distance between themselves and Jackson’s anger.

Stiles is already half running after him, even without having the faintest idea of what Jackass is about to do.

“You stupid, useless kid,” He shouts while shaking the goal keeper, who’s close to tears.

Stiles, without thinking, shoves Jackson away from his camper, Douchemore falling ass first in the grass.

“These are designer jeans!” Jackson complains, standing up. “You probably stained them!”

“If you don’t shut up, I might try and find out if my fist leaves any stain in your face, you asshole!” He screams.

“What the hell is going on here?” Boyd asks, finally appearing.

“Just congratulating this little guy and telling Stiles he shouldn’t be as tough with his campers.” Jackson says, patting the camper he was previously abusing in the head.

He really shouldn’t be around children.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “You know exactly what is happening.” He tells Boyd as he leaves the field. “You should report him to Derek. A guy like that shouldn’t be around kids, like, ever.”

There’s a sorrowful look in Boyd’s face as he gazes upon his campers. “I’ll think about it.”

“Derek would understand.” Stiles says and, by Boyd’s expression, he was right on target.

Bull’s eye!

 

* * *

 

“Here.” Derek says, presenting him with a kart full of bags containing a week’s worth of dirty clothing. “Take this to the laundry.”

Stiles pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why can’t you do it?”

 “Because I’ve been doing it for the last two weeks and, since these are your clothes as well, you might as well start pulling your own weight.” Derek says, pushing the kart towards Stiles.

“Derek, your assholish nature is showing.” Stiles tells him, palms cradling the railing of the kart and walking with it towards Derek.

“I’m just asking you to do a simple chore.” Derek says, eyebrows shooting up as his hands come up, gripping over the kart’s railing.

“If it’s so simple, you can do it.” Stiles argues, shoving it towards Derek.

Derek’s brows furrow. “Stiles, I’m not partaking in this.”

“Then you take it.”

“Stiles, you’re being childish.”

“Look who’s talking.” Stiles says and Derek looks down, eyes widening as he realizes the kart has been going back and forth during their little banter.

Derek huffs and takes his hands off the railings. “I’m going to wake up the kids. I don’t want to see you or the kart here when I get back down.” Derek warns, turning his back on Stiles and walking towards the stair.

Stiles looks around the bag, tongue picking out over his upper lip. Derek freezes in his march when a bag hits his back, shoulder blades barely concealed by the fabric of his Henley.

Derek looks back over his shoulder, brow arched. “You just threw a bag full of dirty clothes at me?” He asks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip.

Stiles stuffs both hands in the pockets of his jean shorts. “Maybe.” He shrugs. “Are you doing anything about it?” Stiles challenges.

When Derek hunches down, Stiles fist is already closing over a second bag, being hit right on the face as his shot grazes over Derek’s shoulder.

Derek laughs, loud and bubbly. “Targeting the wall, are we?” He taunts, sliding across the wooden floor boards and behind the kart.

“Shut up, I almost hit you!” Stiles counters and takes advantage of the opening, darting towards the pair of bags lying by the stairs and grabbing them both.

Derek snorts. “Yeah, right, you almost missed me. That’s why the bag landed in our neighboring galaxy.” He says, hitting Stiles’ stomach as Stiles turns around, making him stumble backwards and land on his ass.

“Fuck.” Stiles grunts as Derek releases a battle roar. Getting up, Stiles dodges yet another one, throwing both bags as Derek takes cover behind the kart. Immediately grabbing the remaining two bags, Stiles slowly and silently approaches the makeshift cover.

And then Derek is pushing the kart out of the way and yanking the clothing bags out from Stiles’ hold, tearing off the plastic and throwing dirty laundry all over the hallway and stairs. Derek charges Stiles into the floor, driven by the memento, and they fall on the wood boards with a thud, Stiles’ back and stomach complaining more than a little bit.

“Fuck.” Stiles lets out. “You could be a little bit gentler.” Stiles complains as Derek places both hands by each side of Stiles’ head and lifts his head from where it was nudged on Stiles’ neck, before turning very, very still, Derek’s warm breath ghosting along his cheek and lashes, Stiles’ hands frozen over his sides.

“Sorry.” Derek whispers, tickling the skin on his cheek and bristling the hair at the back of his neck. Stiles turns his head, their noses bumping on each other and Stiles realizes Derek’s eyes aren’t only green. There’s also an amber aura around his irises. Stiles can count the freckles in his cheeks and the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes.

He’s reminded of the seven year age difference between them before it vanishes in his mind, breath hitching as Derek’s fingers caress his jaw, his thumb brushing across Stiles’ bottom lip and leaving his mouth ajar. Derek’s eyelids flutter closed as he slowly leans further, his heart jumping in his chest, pressed against Stiles’ own where Stiles’ own heart drums against his ribcage.

“Are we having a dirty clothes fight?” Logan asks and both Stiles and Derek look over to the stairs where the kids, still in their pajamas, are hanging from the railings.

Looking back at each other, Derek springs himself up, like he has been burned and Stiles scurries backwards, back hitting against the wall.

“No, children, we’re not having a dirty clothes fight.” Derek tells them in a slightly annoyed voice. “Now, get off the stairwell and go change.” He orders, climbing up the stairs.

Stiles lets out a laugh.

Derek turns around. “What?”

“You have a hole in your jeans.” Stiles tells him and Derek’s eyes instantly fall down, fingers inspecting each inch of his pants. “Nice underwear, by the way.”

Derek grunts as his finger finds the hole. “Stiles, these pants were expensive.”

“Not my problem if you stretched the material to the point of ripping.” Stiles cackles and hurries off to find a pair of garbage bags.

Once the dirty clothes are back in bags and inside the kart, Stiles takes the kart towards the laundry mat, trying his best not to think of the heat of Derek’s body pressed against his or in the way his fingers felt in Stiles’ skin. He definitely doesn’t think of how tight his jeans were, and still are.

“You’re late, five!” The clerk, a woman with auburn hair, complains.

“Well, blame Derek.” Stiles tells her.

“Derek came in this morning with his whites and colors. I’m sure that if someone is at fault here, is you.” She says, turning around. “Elliot, come here.”

A guy in a white t-shirt comes from the adjacent room, from where Stiles can hear washing machines humming.

“Yes, Miss Charles?” He asks.

Miss Charles points towards the kart, “Take those in with the others. Make sure that the whites and the colors are sorted. Mr. Hale usually sorts them out, but you never know with these new monitors. And remember, cabin laundry and Mr. Hale’s laundry is done separately.”

“I know, I know.” Elliot grumbles, taking the kart towards the backroom.

Stiles finds their interaction extremely amusing.

“Do you need anything else?” Miss Charles asks, peering down her glasses like Stiles is but a mere bug in her pristine counter.

“Derek washes his clothes separately?”

“Yes, _Mr. Hale_ does.”

“And you short whites from colors?”

“Of course, otherwise colors would bleach and whites would stain.” Miss Charles says like she thinks Stiles is mentally impaired.

Stiles grins widely. “Thanks, bye.” He waves before darting out the door and towards the cafeteria, a purpose in his sprint and a plan in his mind.

“Allison!” Stiles calls as he approaches the dining hall.

Allison stops, curiously looking his way.

“Just give me a moment.” Stiles pleads, wheezing, as he bends down with both hands on his knees. “Do you have any pink underwear?” He asks, after catching back his breath.

“Yes, I have.” Allison tells him, already acquainted with his usual brand of randomness to give a fuck anymore, just rolling with punches. “A pink bra, which you’ve seen.”

“Oh, right.” Stiles says, grimacing at the image of Allison covering herself with the aforementioned item as Stiles barged in Scott’s room on afternoon.

In his defense, Scott had invited him to play video games.

“It won’t do, it’s too large.” Stiles tells her, thinking that maybe undies would be a better fit. “What about undies? I need to borrow ones.”

Allison chuckles. “No and I hope you realize how weird a request this is.”

“I do.” Stiles nods, entering the cafeteria and, spotting Erica, he walks over to her table, where Erica and Boyd are sitting. “Hello Erica, do you have any underwear I can borrow?” Stiles asks and, thankfully, Derek is nowhere to be seen or he might catch on to Stiles’ plan.

“Do I look like a Barbie to you?” Erica says and Boyd asks, “Stiles, do you require a consultation with my fist?”

“I’ll take that as a no.” Stiles decides.

Erica laughs and Boyd tells him, “Good, since I kind of see us as friends. Also, Derek.”

Stiles, though, is already approaching his new target, Cora, sitting with Isaac, Scott and Derek. “Can I borrow Cora for a second?” Stiles asks.

“No.” Cora answers but Stiles is already pulling her away.

“Do you have any pink undies?” He asks.

Cora’s face changes from ‘I’m going to slap you so hard’ to absolutely terrified. “Isaac told you? He promised he would never tell anyone!”

Bingo! “No, and I’ll keep your secret if you let me borrow a pair.” Stiles says, lips widening in a victorious grin.

Cora narrows her eyes. “Fine, but if you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

“I do not doubt it.” Stiles admits, just a little bit frightened.

 

* * *

 

“Stiles, this is not funny! And I know it was you!” Derek accuses.

Stiles looks up from a book Derek borrowed him back when they were still enemies (“Western, historical, romance?” Stiles said while checking out the book’s covers ”This is all so boring. And I’m sorry to disappoint you but the last one won’t help you much. You’re a lost cause.”). Stiles finally settled on a space opera, a finding that left him pleasantly surprised. He read it in no time, as well as a science fiction one and another in the urban fantasy genre.

Now Stiles has an early Spiderman comic in his hands and is reliving the good old glory days.

Stiles instantly forgives Derek for interrupting his reading when he’s presented with such a hilarious sight, letting out a laugh at the image of Derek holding a pair of pink boxer shorts, furry eyebrows knitting together as Derek’s scowl vanishes, his mouth hanging open in confusion, showcasing his adorable bunny teeth.

“Stiles, this isn’t funny.” Derek says, waving the boxer briefs around which only makes Stiles laugh even more. “How am I supposed to wear these now?” He asks, holding the pink fabric really close to Stiles’ face, like seeing them will make Stiles feel embarrassed.

“I don’t see what your problem is.” Stiles says between loud cackles. “It’s called underwear for a reason, Derek. You’re supposed to use it _under_ your other clothes, so no one will actually see them. Unless, of course, wearing pink underwear makes you doubt your sexuality.” He teases with a smirk.

“I’m totally comfortable with my bisexuality, thank you very much.” Derek tells him, which is totally news to Stiles, news that make his heart flutter and his skin tingle.

Oh god, Stiles can’t be developing a crush on Derek freaking Hale.

He just can’t, no matter what his dick says whenever Derek is whole up in his business, pressing him against vertical surfaces like sand or wood floorboards.

“Then” Stiles begins, trying to ignore his inner dilemma. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”

Derek stuffs the boxer briefs back in the basket with a huff, placing it by his bed. “Fine,” He mutters, slouching down on his mattress and rubbing his temples, looking exhausted.

“Do you want a back rub?” Stiles blurts out, the words coming out of his mouth without much thought, kind of like everything else that comes out of his god forsaken lips.

Derek arches his eyebrows, taking a peek at Stiles from under the hand covering his widened green eyes.

“There are no pranks involved, Sheriff’s son’ honor.” Stiles promises, drawing a cross above his heart. “You just look really tired and, I don’t know, Derek, you need to be in top shape.” He says and pretends to flex his nonexistent biceps. “Think of the children, Derek! Would you please think of the children?” Stiles yearns in a dramatic voice.

Derek chuckles. “If it’s for the children’ sake, I guess I’ll have to agree.” He says, taking off his shirt, socks, sneakers and jeans and lying back down on his stomach, bare back exposed in all its naked glory and the black boxer briefs he’s wearing doing little to conceal the shape of his slightly propped up ass.

And, oh god, this is actually happening.

Stiles Stilinski is going to give Derek Hale, Greek God extraordinaire, a massage. Oh fuck, oh god, he better not get a hard on.

And ups, too late.

“Have you ever given a massage before?” Derek asks, getting comfortable on the bed.

“Yes, I have.” Stiles says, running towards the bathroom, hoping that not seeing Derek’s muscled shoulder blades for a while will make his boner go away.

Besides, Stiles also needs to get his massage oil from his utility bag. “My dad spends a lot of time sitting down, both in the office and at home, reviewing case files and writing case reports. So, long story short, his back are always in quite a horrible shape. Then, one year, I decided to take a small course and surprise him for his birthday.”

“That was nice of you.” Derek offers.

“I know. I’m an awesome son.” Stiles says, entering back into the room. And oh god, not even Derek’s eye roll keeps his boner from re-surfing.

 _Think of cute things, Stiles._ He says to himself, trying to school the hard on away. _Think of cute kitties or cute puppies or small little babies._

And that partly does the trick.

At least before Stiles is placing his knee unto the bed, and then the other, each one of his legs framing each side of Derek’s torso, so Stiles decides to keep his crotch the farthest away from Derek’s firm, muscled ass or there will be trouble.

Derek has been behaving a little weirdly since their small ‘accident’ in the cabin’s hall, after all, their little bum and crash.

“If tomorrow I wake up with back pain, I’m filling a complaint.” Derek tells him.

“Just trust my Stilinski magic hands for a spell.” Stiles says, squirting some massage oil unto his hand and rubbing both his palms together. “I’m a certified back rubber, after all.”

Derek looks up at him with an arched brow and an amused smile on his lips.

“Trust that I’m a soon to be broke college student with no money to deal with a law suit for malpractice.” Stiles tries with a shrug.

Derek tilts his head, nods and then chuckles before laying his head back between his arms.

Stiles tentatively squeezes Derek’s tense shoulders, his skin feeling warm under Stiles’ fingers, kneading the knots of tension housed between the tendons of Derek’s muscles

“Oh, fuck.” Derek groans under Stiles’ fingertips and his dick perks up with interest, his waist involuntarily thrusting forward and he curses this damn idea that sprung up on him without a warning or consideration, choking on thin air.

This is really not good for his health.

“Does that feel good?” Stiles asks, trying to fill the air with something other than Derek’s winded breath and moaned gasps, pressing his fingers into the pressure points of Derek’s muscled shoulder blades and along his back.

“Yeah.” Derek says, voice slurry and sleepy as he hums happily under Stiles’ fingertips.

Head light and dick hard, Stiles keeps massaging Derek’s skin, feeling Derek relaxing under his touch, his breaths becoming slower and his muscles turning pliant.

 “I think I’m done.” Stiles says when Derek lets out a snort, voice unusually rough.

In somewhat of a trance and without much thought, Stiles leans forward, in a movement that just feels right, like something he has done a thousand times before, eyelids fluttering a little bit before closing, his lips knitted together  in a pout as Stiles’ thumb brushes along the valley between Derek’s shoulders and across the spirals of his triskelion tattoo.

There’s a sudden knock on the door. “’Tiles,” Andy calls, before opening the door and regarding Stiles and Derek curiously, asking, “What are you doing?”

“I’m doing nothing.” Stiles quickly blurts out, sitting back, his hands getting away from Derek’s skin as if they have been burned, losing balance and falling backwards on the bed. “I’m simply, um, lying here, doing nothing.”

“That’s what my mom and dad always say.” Andy reveals.

Stiles jumps up from the bed, kneeling down at Andy’s eye level, trying to cover up his boner. “What did you want, buddy?” He asks, ruffling his hair.

“I’m still afraid of the ghost story, ‘Tiles.” Andy tells him.

Stiles chuckles and some of his tension slowly leaves his body. Andy’s insomnia is Stiles’ fault, really, he was the one who told the horror story tonight around the camp fire that, scaring every single camper and even some of the monitors. Stiles suspects he’s never telling a story around the camp fire ever again. “Want me to look under the bunk beds?” He asks.

“And inside the wardrobes, ‘Tiles.” Andy adds. “Jake was saying he wasn’t afraid of ghosts, since he’s the _boss_ , but he won’t see inside either. None of them will.”

“Let’s go ghost hunting, then.” Stiles chirps and Derek lets out a startling snore.

Stiles muffles a chuckle under his palm as he gets up, taking Andy’s hand in his and thanking the heavens for this small distraction.

 

* * *

 

When Stiles wakes up, Derek is stepping out from the bathroom, steam seeping through the open door and although Derek’s already fully dressed, his hair is still damp from his morning shower and water droplets still glisten on his neck.

First, Stiles’ eyes are entranced by how nicely Derek’s tight jeans hug his butt cheeks, and then he’s stifling a laugh.

“Are you making fun of me already?” Derek teases, raising a brow.

“Sorry, you just make it so easy.” Stiles shrugs, getting out from underneath his covers and crawling along the length of the bed, untucking Derek’s shirt from where it’s stuck between Derek’s jeans and his pink boxer briefs. “There you go.”

“Hum, thanks.” Derek lets out and Stiles suddenly realizes his face is a mere inches away from Derek’s groin.

“I,” Stiles stutters, getting up and taking the first shirt and khaki shorts he can get his hands in with him into the bathroom. “Have to get dressed and brush my teeth.” He blurts out, closing the door behind him and sighing with relief.

When Stiles gets out of the bathroom, teeth shining and clothes rocking, he finds Derek has already made both their beds.

Neither of them mentions it. They also don’t mention that Stiles gave Derek an awesome and completely, totally relaxing massage.

Why would they, anyway?

None of those things actually mean anything.

Nope.

Stiles doesn’t even know why he’s thinking about any of these irrelevant actions. So he tries not to and the day goes by rather smoothly.

“’Tiles, I have a question.” Andy asks during arts and crafts, pulling his shirt.

 “What is it, buddy?” Stiles asks, leveling his head with the toddler’s.

“I don’t have a daddy.” He points out with tears in his eyes.

“Oh.” Stiles says and it feels like he’s looking at himself, six years ago. “Well, you could make only one key chain. I bet your mommy will be really happy when she sees it.” Stiles tells him, tentatively.

“I guess.” He says, looking at all the other children. “But everyone else is making two.”

Stiles looks around, takes a deep breath, and decides that maybe his past experience can be useful here. “Let me tell you something, Andy. The last year I spent at summer camp was the year my mom died and now that I think of it, they had us build key chains too, those assholes.” He says and Andy chuckles. “And I made two key chains anyway, one for my dad, and one for my mom.”

“Why would you make one for your mom?” Andy asks.

“Because then, when I returned home and went visiting her grave, I had something to give her, a little piece of my summer. Something personal to leave by her grave after I told her about all the fun I had in summer camp. You can do that. Or you can make only one. It’s up to you, little man.” Stiles tells him.

Andy ponders for a bit. “I wanna make two.”

Stiles smiles. “Then come along, Ands, and I’ll help you.” He says, taking Andy by the hand and walking with him back to his little work station.

They are halfway through it when another emergency happens –

“I miss my mom and daddy!” A kid from Scott’s cabin cries, and then every child starts crying at the top of their lungs.

And even if Scott and Isaac start calming their campers, Derek simply stares at his, his mouth hanging open in a small ‘o’ and his brows slightly arched up, panicked, having no idea of what to do.

His head lifts up, his eyes meeting Stiles’ in a silent plea for help.

And a quick run through of what could possibly fix this situation has Stiles darting across the room and towards the door.

“Wait, Stiles, don’t leave me here!” Derek shouts after him.

“I’ll be right back.” He reassures before running across camp.

“Hello Laura, so happy you’re here today!” Stiles greets as he enters the reception.

“It’s always a treat to see you as well, Stiles. What prank are you planning on pulling on my brother this time?” She asks.

“Actually, I’m waiting for his payback at the moment.” Stiles explains, sprinting towards the freezer. “I just came by to steal some ice cream.”

Laura chuckles. “So, I take it you’re having a child emergency?” She asks.

“Yup, I am.” Stiles nods his head, picking up several boxes of ice pops. “You have no idea. We’re making a pair of key chains in arts and crafts for them to give to their parents and everyone is crying and missing home. It’s a mess.”

“Ouch.” Laura says, feeling his pain although an amused smile still plays along her lips, like she’s enjoying seeing him in such a commotion. “Well, good luck. I hope the sugar helps!” Laura waves him goodbye.

“Thanks and I really hope so! It’s either this or Derek will have to put on a clown suit.” Stiles says as he leaves with several boxes full of ice pops between his hands.

Seriously, he’s carrying his weight in ice pops.

Stiles can still hear the sound of Laura’s cackles as he hurries back towards the arts and crafts’ complex, juggling the boxes in his arms.

“I have ice cream, everybody!” Stiles shouts upon kicking open the door to the arts and crafts complex, setting the boxes overflowing with ice pops on the floor and, suddenly, the crying comes to a stop and all the kids approach the ice creams like lions circling a poor, defenseless zebra before administering the final blow.

 When they are done devouring the ice pops like ravenous animals, there are only a couple of ice pops left inside the containers that Stiles decides to divide between the monitors and the remaining staff.

“Here you go, Derek. I’m sorry it’s not lemon. I know sour is the only taste you can bear.” Stiles half apologizes, half teases.

Derek shrugs. “Blueberry is good too.”

“It’s nice to know.” Stiles decides, sucking on his orange pop.

Derek’s cheeks turn a little pink, for some reason. “Don’t think this settles anything between us. An ice pop you stole from my camp’s freezer doesn’t make us even.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Stiles winks and the flush covering Derek’s cheeks extends to his small, cute ears.

Derek places a pooter tooter under Stiles’ seat cushion during one dinner and doesn’t even try and hide how pleased he is with himself, the asshole. Stiles takes revenge on Derek’s public humiliation with the help of a black marker and writes ‘dumb’ across his forehead one morning Derek falls asleep at breakfast, after a night awake over seeing camp business.

It takes Derek half an hour to find out, which only makes it sweeter.

Derek strikes back by hoisting up Stiles’ super hero themed boxer briefs in the mast usually sporting a flag where ‘Camp Lake Hale’ can be read in bold, capital letters.

Stiles takes a picture of Derek in his pink boxers and places them around camp.

Needless to say Derek gets a little mad at him, but it’s mostly due to exposing the children to that kind of thing.

“Oh, please, Derek, you have the best body they’ll ever see.” Stiles says when Derek voices his ridiculous worries. “They’re lucky, really.”

And then Derek’s angry flush turns into a sheepish flush and it is absolutely glorious and totally worth picking up sneakers from tree branches.

 

* * *

 

Tyler corners Stiles in the cafeteria’s line.

“You are the one pulling pranks on Uncle Derek, aren’t you?” He asks.

“Yes, yes I am.” Stiles admits before grimacing. “You aren’t going to kick me, are you? Because that seemed like a thing you enjoyed doing when you were six years old.” He says, protecting his stomach.

“No, you’re cool.” Tyler sooths his worries. “Besides, Uncle Derek seems to be having a good time. Though your pranks are the reason I’ve come to you.”

“And why is that?” Stiles asks, regarding Tyler with curiosity.

“My younger brother is in Jackson’s cabin. And while Boyd is cool and does the best he can, he can’t have his eyes on top of Jackson all the time.” Tyler informs.

“I’m not sure I follow.” Stiles tells him.

The poker face he receives in response would have the Derek Hale seal of approval. Seriously, it must be a family thing. Stiles chuckles as the image of Derek wearing that same expression comes to mind, fondness washing over him instead of the usual loathing and annoyance.

“So, let me see if I understand. You want me to prank Jackson?”

Tyler nods. “Yes, I do. He called Eric a chicken while making chicken noises. He made my brother cry and no one is allowed to do that but me.” Tyler states firmly.

“Oh, that’s kind of sweet in an ‘I’m happy I’m not your brother way’.” Stiles admits, placing a palm over his swelling heart. “You can count on me, Tyler. In fact, I have the perfect prank in mind.” Stiles reveals with a smirk and a wink.

That’s how he ends up awake at a godforsaken hour, placing a package on a doorstep, ringing on a doorbell and hurrying down the porch, towards the bushes.

“You think he’ll wake up?” Stiles asks Boyd, crouching down beside him.

Boyd nods sternly. “The dude sleeps like a princess.”

And so they wait for a little while longer.

“Maybe you didn’t knock hard enough.” Scott wonders, holding out his phone and pointing it’s camera at the cabin’s closed door.

“That’s very likely, since Jackson may sleep like a princess, but you have the strength of one.” Isaac mocks.

“Would you like to test that hypothesis?” Stiles asks, hand closing in a fist.

“Bring it on!” Isaac prompts, puffing out his chest.

“Or better yet, I’ll tell Cora you just implied girls are weak. Let’s see how you like _her_ fist in your face.” Stiles suggests and that makes all the blood on Isaac’s face dry out, his skin pale white.

Boyd snickers silently and Scott, well, cackles not so silently.

“What are the four of you doing here?” Derek’s voice asks, a little out of breathe and making the four friends almost have a heart attack.

Stiles turns around in one swift motion, heart yammering in his chest. His eyes widen and his heart stammers even faster at the sight of Derek and all of his hotness.

Derek holds an ear bud between his fingers, music floating out of it loudly. His chest is heaving, threatening to rip the fabric of a very tight gray tank top that leaves little to the imagination. Sweat covers his forehead and drips down his neck, dampening the fabric of the tank top and making his tanned skin glisten under the hot summer sun. The veins in his arms are popping out from exertion and his hair his all messy and glossy and wet.

Stiles has entertained one or two fantasies about boning Derek Hale, some of which have been during his covert jerking off sessions in their shared bathroom, but never before has he felt the urge to jump on top of Derek in broad day light.

It’s a little scary, how every fabric of his being suddenly years for Derek, for his touch, for his smell, for his everything. How his fingers tingle with the desire to touch him and wrap around his slick locks of hair. How his lips want to map out every inch of Derek’s body, but most of all his lips, how his tongue wants to taste Derek’s mouth and the prickle of his stubble.

Scott hits him with a painful jab brings and him out of his ramblings.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Stiles asks in return, his voice too high, his eyes trying not to look directly at Derek, fearing he’ll get lost in his eternal beauty again. “Get down, for Christ sake!”

“I asked first.” Derek remarks, unhelpfully, but gets down anyway and, oh god, someone as sweaty as Derek’s right now shouldn’t be allowed to smell that damn good.

But sadly, Derek Hale doesn’t care about such common courtesies.

“And I asked you second.” Stiles stutters, his retort weak and he knows it. Apparently he’s only capable of stating the obvious under his current incapacitated state of mind.

Derek stares at him for a little while before letting out a huff, warm air grazing along Stiles’ cheek, skin shivering as his blood turns steaming hot.

“I’m on my morning run, like usual, in case you haven’t noticed the sweat, wrist band or sport outfit I’m wearing.” Oh, Stiles has noticed all those things all right. Has entertained thoughts about how all of those things will look on the floor, several times in several different positions, all in the span of ten seconds or less. “Now it’s your turn.” And with this last sentence, Derek encompasses in one look all of the surrounding monitors.

“Well, we’re waiting for Jackson to come out.” Stiles admits.

“Well, then why don’t you just go there and knock?” Derek asks.

“Yeah, you should probably go out there and knock a second time. And try knocking a little harder this time.” Isaac tells him, tone teasing.

“No one asked you!” Stiles scolds, eyes peering towards the cabin’s door, still closed and with absolutely no sign of Jackson coming out.

“Maybe I should knock –”

When Stiles is about to get out of behind the bushes and give knocking at the cabin’s door another go, the door swings open. Stiles pointedly doesn’t yelp and quickly crouches back down, tapping Scott’s arm impatiently.

“Be ready, Scott, be ready!” He yearns.

“Stop shaking me, unless you want these to turn out all blurry!” Scott complains, shoving Stiles’ arms aside.

Jackson then steps outside, a bucket falling down and splattering yellow paint all over Jackson’s body, a second one sprinkling Jackson’s frame with white feathers.

All five of them are trying not to laugh too loudly.

“Stilinski, I know it’s you!” Jackson shouts into the morning sky. “I’m going to kill you when I find you, you asshole!”

“I’m not asking why Stiles is playing a prank on someone.” Derek says and Stiles is very offended. “But why are you playing a prank on someone?”

“He’s turning the kids all against each other.” Stiles explains, even if unasked.

“And he’s being mean to them.” Scott adds.

“I thought we were doing this because we were jealous of his dashing good looks.” Isaac points out and four sets of eyes fixing on him. “What? Yes, I have a girlfriend and I’m very committed to her, but I can still appreciate a model type face when I see one and does Jackson have it.”

“Boyd.” Derek requests in a suffering tone.

Boyd sighs. “Despite my best efforts otherwise, Jackson is kind of being a... douche bag. I thought I could handle the situation by myself, since I know how busy you’ve been, but I haven’t been doing a good job at it. Sorry.” He admits.

“You have nothing you need to be sorry about, Boyd.” Derek reassures him.

“I’ll egg your shithole of a cabin if you don’t come out right now!” Jackson screams some more and, although he sounds whiny, Stiles has to admit he has a quite admirable voice projection.

“I’ll be right back.” Derek tells them, strutting out of the shrubs, his delicious ass bouncing from side to side with each purposeful step.

“There you are, you –”Jackson’s starts, eyes widening like he has just seen a ghost at the sight of Derek. “Oh, Derek, it’s you.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Derek states. “And if I hear another word about you being disrespectful to your campers or setting them up against each other, I’m firing you with just cause and I’m convinced that such an event would disappoint your father greatly.” He warns, letting his words hang threateningly hover Jackson’s for a beat. “Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, sir.” Jackson stutters.

Jackson actually stutters and it’s the first time Stiles has ever heard Jackson stutter and it’s a wonderful and glorious event.

Derek nods, apparently satisfied, and turns his back on Jackson. “Oh, and if anything happens to my cabin, getting fired will be the least of your worries.” He warns over his shoulder.

Stiles is speechless, 100% speechless and he has never felt any better.

“There, done.” Derek tells the four of them, a ghost of a smirk on his lips, before he’s jogging off like this is but a simple routine, a normal event in the life of Derek Hale.

“What just happened?” Scott whispers.

“Derek Hale is my new favorite superhero, is what just happened.” Stiles says.

“What happened to Captain America?” Scott asks.

“Derek’s ass is better.”

 

* * *

 

 

This is Stiles’ last day off this summer. During his previous days off, Stiles has played games on his phone, talked with his dad, read Derek’s books, went to an arcade, played cards with Erica and Boyd, got defeated by Erica and Boyd and made the god awful mistake of watching a movie with Scott and Allison.

He’s spending this day off swimming in the lake and going out.

It’s also the first day off he and Derek have together, since the kids went on a field trip to the Hale Wolf Haven and only two monitors for age group of each gender were needed.

Jackson and Melanie were the ones picked, for Jackson’s unhappiness and Stiles’ delight.

Stiles feels, more than anything, sorry for Melanie, since spending an entire day with Douchemore is something he would not wish to his worst enemy.

That’s how Stiles ends up getting in his swimsuit in front of Derek, trying not to look at the other man’s chiseled chest as he takes off his sweaty sweater.

“Will you go out with us, today?” Stiles asks.

“Where are you going and who’s us?” Derek asks, getting off of his shorts and, ding dong, he’s wearing nothing underneath.

It’s not Stiles’ fault if he can’t avert his eyes from taking a peek.

“Hum, we are me, Scott, Allison, Isaac, Cora, Boyd and Erica and we’re going to a club in town. C’mon, Derek it’s going to be cool.”

“I smell ulterior motives.” Derek says, getting unto his red swim trunks.

“Okay, so maybe I thought this would be a perfect situation for me to take advantage of our newfound friendship and have some drinks.” Stiles admits, shamelessly. 

“You flatter yourself, I merely tolerate you.” Derek tells him.

“That’s not what a lake outing suggests.” Stiles tells him, waggling his brows, and Derek rolls his eyes. “And that’s also not an answer.”

 “I may go to keep an eye on Cora and Allison but I’ll not be an accomplice in underage drinking.” He states.

“Oh, c’mon, Derek, you need to loosen up a little bit. Be the fun adult I know exists within, the one that partakes in prank wars and childish banter.” Stiles says, patting Derek’s chest, Stiles’ hand lingering on one of Derek’s pecks for a little too long.

When he takes his hand his off, they’re both different shades of red.

Stiles hopes Derek is not too angry.

“I don’t partake in childish banter.” Derek argues as they venture outside the cabin and Stiles’ fears vanish in a summer breeze.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Do to.”

“Do not.”

“And I’ve made my point.” Stiles points out, looking back at Derek with a grin and taking pleasure in the way his eyebrows furrow. The fond smile that settles on his lips, though, is somewhat unexpected and has Stiles’ heart stuttering in his chest.

“Fine, I’ll get you drinks, _but_ all of you are paying me back later and I’m imposing a limit of three drinks per person.” Derek tells him pointedly.

“That will do.” Stiles supposes, for now.

Along the beach outing, Stiles writes ‘suck me’ in Derek’s back using sun cream (a prank that earns Derek a “You wish” from Erica and a “Ew, Der” from Cora), Derek splashes Stiles with ice cold water when Stiles is reticent to venture in, after running towards the lake and chickening out when his toes meet the glacier cold water. Stiles also threatens to destroy Derek’s masterpiece of a castle (seriously, he should’ve been the one helping Andy build one, since his skills are totally insane) and gets pinned down on the sand (“Hulk smash, hulk destroy”), arms behind his back, trying not to get a boner upon feeling Derek’s wet chest pressed behind him and failing spectacularly (“Let me go, Derek, Geez” “Only if you promise to leave my sand castle alone” “Only if you promise to extend the three drink limit” and that only makes Derek tighten his hold even more “Okay, okay, I won’t go near your precious sand castle” he shouts).

Stiles, Scott and Isaac somehow persuade Derek into agreeing to have is body buried under the warm sand and then leave him be for fifteen minutes (Scott and Isaac end up digging him out under the threat of bodily damage while Cora, Allison and Erica laugh loudly while drinking margaritas, courtesy of Boyd. Maybe they don’t need the three limit drink extended after all).

Stiles has one margarita too, and possibly a few more.

That’s how Derek convinces him to take off his swim suit, his private parts hidden by the crystal water. He should’ve known the ass would run away with them. That’s also how Stiles walks out of the lake without any concern, feeling daring and sporting a shit eating grin on his lips as Derek gapes wildly at him.

Derek ends up handing him his swim suit back while looking away, his cheeks red as a pepper, so the joke’s on him and maybe Stiles enjoys the situation a bit too much for his own good.

At dinner time, Derek takes a picnic table outside, as well as some candle torches to light up the place. He and Boyd also barbecue some meat and it is the best thing Stiles has ever tasted, it’s even better than curly fries and, even if Derek looks confused by the remark, it’s the best compliment Stiles could possibly give him.

Laura joins them at dinner and she and Stiles spends the evening making Derek blush and it’s hilarious. Derek also shares some stories about Laura with the group that have her excusing herself in favor of a ‘date’ and Stiles is liking this facet of Derek more and more, is liking _Derek_ more and more, even though he shouldn’t.

Scott and Isaac are relegated to kitchen duty and Stiles, Derek, Erica, Boyd, Allison and Cora play a little game of poker to pass the time.

Stiles and Derek destroy the competition.

Erica tells them that the only thing worse than Stiles bragging everything he wins is the both of them bragging every time they win.

“You’re just jealous!” Derek says, leaning against Stiles’ body, his cheeks and ears a little too red, probably from the margaritas he already drunk over dinner.

“You’re totally jealous! You guys are just a bunch of whining losers!” Stiles tells them, a little heady, the alcohol and the feel of Derek’s warmth beside him, his sweet breath grazing just under Stiles’ nose, a little inebriating.

The four of them roll their eyes.

When Scott and Isaac return, it’s finally time to head downtown.

“We should all take a cab, so everyone can drink.” Stiles says, ignoring the fact all of them are already a little drunk.

“Don’t worry.” Erica says, leading them towards Boyd’s minivan. “Boyd doesn’t drink.” She simply offers.

“You don’t?” Stiles asks, before realizing it might be a sensitive subject.

“No. I lost my dad to liver cancer so I don’t drink, ever.” Boyd reveals and Stiles understands all too well where he’s coming from so he drops the subject right there.

They play ‘I spy’ on the way to the night club, and everyone keeps saying they spy something black, except for Derek, who is always spying something brown (whether it’s Stiles’ eyes, hair or moles).

When they get too the club, the bouncer acts kind of douchy, claiming some of them (Stiles) look too young to go in.

After a stare down between Derek and the bouncer, he finally lets them in, cowering under Derek’s might. It’s one of those times where Stiles notices Derek actually looks like a tough, intimidating, I’ll break you in half kind of guy, instead of an annoyance or a hot, kind of guy friend.

“And the reasons to bring you just keep piling up.” Stiles shouts above the music ringing loudly in his ears, landing his arm around Derek’s shoulder, quickly removes it when Derek pretends to bite his hand off.

“Jerk,” Stiles calls him, holding his hand protectively to his chest.

“I do my best.” Derek says with a wink and a smirk.

They are able to holler a table big enough for the eight of them and they order some drinks.

“Want to dance?” Allison asks Scott after the three limit drink is up.

“Yeah, dancing would be a great idea.” Cora says.

Both and Scott and Isaac turn their looks towards Derek.

“You can go,” Derek tells them with a shit eating grin. “Just remember, face to face, leave some space.”

Allison laughs at Scott’s face of abject horror, and so does Stiles, a little bit.

“Der, you’re being ridiculous.” Cora rolls her eyes and walks over to the dance floor, Isaac in tow and Allison and Scott following close behind.

“Got any sort of advice for us, Derek?” Erica asks, amused.

“Leave some things up in your path of destruction.” Derek jokes and Erica seems pondering while Boyd has a tiny smile in his lips.

“I’ll try.” Erica shrugs, like it will cost her deeply.

And that’s how Stiles ends up alone with Derek, inside a booth.

“You know what? We’re single, bisexual, guy friends. There’s absolutely no reason we shouldn’t be dancing right now. And, okay, we’re kind of in totally different levels in the hotness scale, but who cares, it’ll be fun.” Stiles says, getting up.

Derek regards him for a bit. “You’re kind of hot too.” He says with a shrug, getting up from his chair and walking towards the dance floor, leaving Stiles gaping behind him.

Stiles follows him once he manages to gather himself together.

“Glad you could join me.” Derek says, placing his palms in each side of Stiles’ waist, confidence oozing from his every pore as they start swaying from side to side, Derek guiding Stiles through the dance floor while disco lights flicker and spin around them, leaving him feeling hot all over.

“You can’t say something like that, you shithead.”

“What if I say I like seeing you at a loss for words?”

“I’d tell you are an even bigger ass than I thought you were initially.” Stiles says. “And that we’re not leaving some space.” He adds, closing the mile of a distance between them with a wide step and wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck, his fingertips scraping over his hairline.

Derek gulps and they freeze.

“What now?” Derek whispers and Stiles can hear him perfectly above all the club noise, eyes tracing the movements of Derek’s lips as they take the shape of each word.

“Now we move our feet from side to side, like we were doing before.” Stiles says and, as he takes his first step, Derek moving towards the opposite side, their crotches brush against each other and a jolt of electricity courses through Stiles’ body, skin shivering and cock hardening as his mouth lets out a strangled breath. 

Stiles looks up, only now realizing how close he and Derek are standing, able to count each eyelash framing Derek’s eyelid, peering into the infinite fields of green inside Derek’s eyes and counting at least seven shades of red coloring Derek’s cheeks, a tone Stiles is sure is presently warming up his own.

“I like seeing you blush too.” Stiles admits and Derek’s hold on his waist tightens as he slides their crotches against each other again and starts pulling him towards a dark corner.

Once Stiles’ black hits a hard surface, he’s pulling Derek closer into a kiss, butterflies flying around in his stomach and fireworks blowing out around them as Derek’s pink, wet lips brush against his own, as their mouths mold to each other and Stiles tastes the sweetness of Derek’s tongue and Stiles realizes that Marisa in 3rd grade and Jeremy in junior year clearly had no idea of what they had been doing.

Derek clearly does though, tangling his tongue with Stiles’ and taking his breath away, making the world sway beneath his feet, the harsh prickle of his stubble and the thumb brushing along the skin on his lower back, stuck between Stiles’ body and the wall behind only amplifying Stiles’ senses.

And serving as backdrop to the symphony their mouths are weaving, more powerful and world turning than the main melody, its intensity almost engulfing everything else, like the nerves in Stiles’ skin are waking up for the first time and the rush of arousal coursing through his body threatens to swallow him whole, is the rough movement of their hard cocks brushing against each other, Derek and Stiles trying to get maximum friction even as they are still covered by the blue denim fabric.

When their mouths break apart, Stiles’ lips feeling raw from the sharp stabs of Derek’s teeth, Derek’s pupils are blow wide open, his eyes dark and smoky, his breath husky and his chest heaving, looking just as spent as Stiles feels.

Derek rests his head in Stiles’ shoulder as Stiles’ fists his hands around the leather of Derek’s jacket, rutting their waits together in the shadows of the club, desperate and breathless as their orgasms approach, the smell of smoke and gum and sex peering around them as their moans are muffled by loud techno beats.

“Fuck, Stiles, you’re so beautiful.” Derek tells him, a finger skimming along Stiles’ swollen lips as he makes him cum, his beard burning Stiles’ jaw line as Derek leaves sharp nibbles across his throat, cumming shortly after.

“I guess both of us will regret this later, when our underwear if full of dry, sticky and disgusting cum.” Stiles breathes out as he comes down from his high.

Derek chuckles, low and rough in the back of his throat and lolls his head along Stiles’ shoulder and lightly pressing his lips against Stiles’ neck. “I don’t care.”

“No, me neither. Not now, anyway. That’s a problem for the Stiles and the Derek from the future. Right now, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Only a couple of minutes later does Derek start laughing like a crazy person.

Stiles thought he would never live to see the day.

“What?” He asks, slightly amused.

“This is exactly the kind of behavior I was worried Allison and Cora would partake in.” Derek says. “Oh, irony, you are such a devilish bitch, and also so very, very kind.”

“Having second thoughts?”

“Never,” Derek says, giving him a peck to the lips and Stiles returns the favor, sliding his lips along Derek’s and brushing his fingers along Derek’s hair, weaving his tongue inside Derek’s mouth. “We should find the others and head back.” Derek says, taking a step back as Stiles starts getting lost in the shape of his mouth and in the texture of his tongue.

“Yeah, we should, or I’m never leaving this place.”

Finding the others proves to be a very uncomfortable task. They apparently also witnessed the whole scene and make a point of teasing them both in the way out of the club and towards the car and not even Scott nor Isaac are a bit deluded by Derek’s patented glare.

To be fair, the sheepish shade of red covering his cheeks kind of defeats the purpose, so Stiles wraps his arm around Derek’s and stifles his laughter in Derek’s soft biceps when they sit next to each other in Boyd’s minivan.

“I hate you.” Derek says when they are heading towards the camp, stuffing his face in Stiles’ mess of a hair and snickers a little bit as well.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Stiles asks.

“Never,”

Arriving at camp, they say their goodbyes (“Good job, Stiles!” Scott tells him in the middle of a bro hug. “Be safe through the night.” Erica advises with a wink and a wave.), before returning to their cabins, Derek and Stiles walking silently during their way back.

Stiles is afraid of saying anything, of asking if this is just a onetime thing, if tomorrow they’ll pretend like it never happened, fearing it will break the already dimming magic that settled between them in the club.

“I’m going to take a bath.” Derek tells him, yanking off his shirt on his way towards the bathroom and closing the door with a light shove and a few seconds later, the sound of rustling water travels into the room.

Stiles decides they’re talking.

They might have avoided the subject when the almost kiss happened, but not this time, not when there have been mutual orgasm and there is a possibility for further mutual orgasms in the future.

So Stiles sits in his bed and waits. He picks up the batman comic he’s currently reading, to take his mind off of the internal struggle happening in his mind, only to throw it away a few minutes later when he realizes he’s still on the same sentence. He takes off his clothes, thinking Derek couldn’t possibly resist Stiles’ hot body and lies suggestively on the bed, head splayed across his hand, shoulder propped on top of the mattress. Of course, then come the doubts (yes, he’s body might be lean and muscled, but it’s a little skinny and Derek can look at his masterpiece of a body anytime he wants, why would he be the tiny bit impressed with Stiles’?) and his arm starts getting numb. Stiles sighs, falling on the bed with a thump and grunt, deciding this is really stupid, that he’s really stupid, and starts getting dressed again.

Stiles is in the process of wringing his head through the right opening of his t-shirt when the bathroom’s door suddenly opens.

“What are you doing?” Derek asks with a raised brow, his figure looking pretty fucking ethereal, surrounded by all that steam and whatever words Stiles could’ve said die in his throat at the sight of Derek’s towel hanging low on his hips and giving a small peek of his happy trail, his chiseled chest on display for Stiles, sprinkled with small droplets of water running down from his damp hair, which looks totally fuckable.

Stiles darts across the bed like a graceless predator, yanking Derek’s towel from around his waist and clashing their mouths together, teeth clattering against each other.

“Ouch,” Stiles whines, “I should’ve thought that one through.”

Derek apparently could care less about Stiles’ lack of finesse, taking Stiles’ chin into his hand and slightly tilting his head up as his lips find Stiles’, teeth nipping at Stiles’ bottom lip and pulling it a little before nursing the spot with his tongue, opening Stiles’ mouth with his own while his hand sneaks under Stiles’ pants.

Meanwhile, Stiles’ hands are keeping a hold on Derek’s shoulder blades, his knees threatening to give out.

“You’re already hard.” Derek smirks as he tugs at Stiles’ cock, getting a moan from Stiles’ traitorous lips.

Derek, still looking smug as fuck, which is equal parts hot and frustrating, then proceeds to manhandling him against the bathroom’s door, removing Stiles’ shirt and jean shorts while Stiles sends his sandals flying across the room.

With zero clothes between them, Derek presses his warm body against along Stiles’ own and, hands trailing down Derek’s back, Stiles is surprised with how soft Derek’s skin feels. Any and every thought about Derek’s skin is washed away from his mind when their dicks slide against each other with a heavenly friction that has both of them letting out pleasurable moans and grunts.

“Fuck, Derek, we could’ve been doing this for God knows how long.” Stiles says, a hand trailing across Derek’s wet hair while the other grazes over his stubble.

“Yeah, instead you decided to spend half the time being an insufferable annoyance.” Derek tells him, biting at his lip as punishment.

“Me, you were the one that started!” Stiles argues, nipping his way across Derek’s jaw, his lips burning as they brush along the prickle of Derek’s stubble, red marks being left amongst the threads of facial hair. Stiles licks a stray droplet of water as it’s running down Derek’s neck with his tongue, mouth wrapping around Derek’s ear.

 Derek lets out a moan, his body turning pliant and Stiles takes advantage of the situation and turns him around, his back pressed against the door.

“Wanna be the one that finishes it, don’t you?” Derek asks as Stiles fist closes around his cock.

“Yeah, I do.” Stiles says, kissing a groan out of Derek’s lips as he starts jerking off Derek’s dick, using all the best tricks he has learned over all those years perfecting the best way of making himself cum. “Do you have any lube, condoms?”

“Stiles, why would I have condoms in a, – _fuck_ ” Derek groans as Stiles turns his wrist, teeth scraping over Derek’s chin.

“Can I eat your ass anyway?” Stiles whispers in Derek’s ear. “I’ve never really had a thing for asses, but yours just looks so appetizing and I want to satisfy my curiosity.”

“Be my guest.” Derek breathes out and Stiles is turning him around, pressing Derek’s chest against the wooden surface, Derek’s hands framing each side of his head.

“If I’m awful, your bad, should’ve picked someone with a little more experience.” Stiles tells him, caressing a cheek of Derek’s butt as he kneels down.

“That means I can’t file a complaint?” Derek asks dryly.

Stiles spreads Derek’s cheeks apart, Derek’s hole clenching and unclenching as Stiles brushes his thumb across its pink opening, lazily swiping his tongue over Derek’s hole, the older man shivering and letting out a startled moan above him.

Stiles smirks at the sound. “Seems like you won’t have too,” He says before licking around the rim again, fingers digging in the tender flesh of Derek’s ass.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Derek grunts out, spreading his legs further apart when Stiles pushes his tongue inside Derek’s hole, the taste of lemon and something else welcoming him, something that has Stiles mouth flooding with gob as he greedily swipes his tongue around the walls of muscles inside Derek’s ass, clenching around his tongue at first before expanding slowly at Stiles’ curious, wet member pokes and probes around. “Stiles, my dick” Derek says roughly, sounding a little bit annoyed, though that’s definitely a plea by the way Derek ruts his throbbing cock against the rough material of the door with a whiny groan.

Stiles takes his tongue out of Derek’s ass, a string of spit dripping along his jaw and sticking to Derek’s ass. Breathless, Stiles takes a moment to recover his breath, chest heaving as he’s only no realizing how breathless he actually was.

Derek backs from the door a little bit, allowing Stiles to wrap his hand around Derek’s cock, already smeared with pre cum, and starts jerking him off while he lazily licks at Derek’s balls, pubic hair tickling his wrist and chin as Stiles breathes heavily.

“Breathe control comes with practice.” Derek says, and he actually sounds smug, even after Stiles’ mouth has just been in his ass, Stiles’ fist currently jerking him off.

So Stiles takes one of Derek’s balls into his mouth and Derek shivers around him, letting out a strangled breath.

“I don’t see you complaining.” Stiles mumbles around it, slobbering all over.

“That I’m not.” Derek manages to say, cock thrusting into Stiles’ fist in time with Stiles’ own movements.

Fist still wrapped around Derek’s hard cock, Stiles leaves Derek’s balls and starts sucking at his own index finger until its wet and dripping with dribble. Once he’s satisfied, Stiles brushes his finger over Derek’s opening and Derek presses his ass back against Stiles’ finger.

“Just stick it in.” Derek asks, voice rough, and Stiles grins at the desperate order, sliding his finger inside Derek, Derek’s asshole tight around Stiles’ member.

Stiles starts fingering him, the movements of his finger in synch with the ones of his fist jerking Derek off and he’s unsure whether Derek is thrusting into his fist or plummeting into his finger. Stiles’ finds both thoughts equally arousing, his dick jerking up, throbbing and demanding in his pre cum stained lap, the white, gooey liquid smeared along the red, blotched head of Stiles’ cock and getting stuck between the hairs of his legs.

Stiles swipes his tongue along the rim of Derek’s asshole, tongue twirling greedily around his own finger.

 Derek’s movements turn erratic, as does Stiles’ own, movements turning rough and losing every semblance of a rhythm, the thrusts of Derek’s cock in Stiles’ fist turning frantic with an urgency Stiles knows well. “ _Fuck_ , Stiles, I’m gonna cum.” Derek groans and Stiles lets out a _fuck_ of his own as Derek’s walls clench around Stiles’ finger, before Derek’s dick starts leaking, cum spraying the door with white stripes and sliding down Stiles’ hand.

Stiles leaves a mouthy kiss in Derek’s cheek, kissing his way along Derek’s back as he shudders and groans beneath his mouth, his head resting against the door when Derek comes off of his high, body turning heavy in Stiles’ hands.

 _Damn_ , Derek weighs a ton.

 _Fuck,_ for a moment, Stiles imagines how the Greek Titan Atlas might’ve felt holding up the celestial spheres.

“Can we move this to the bed?” Stiles asks.

Derek chuckles, his body rumbling against Stiles’, “Yeah, we can.”

“Much better,” Stiles breathes out as he lies down.

Derek joins him, embracing Stiles’ shoulders in his arm as he licks his other hand a bit until it is slick and covered in spit, wrapping it around Stiles’ cock, his head covered in pre cum.

Derek’s hold is harsh around Stiles’ dick, his movements unforgiving and soon, Stiles is nothing but a mess of needy noises and loud moans in the bed, Derek nipping along Stiles’ jaw, roughly smashing his mouth against Stiles’ lips and pulling out his bottom lip.

Stiles’ fists his hands in the covers and starts thrusting into Derek’s fist desperately.

“Cum for me, Stiles,” Derek tells him, sharply biting at Stiles’ earlobe.

Stiles lets out a disgruntled moan as cum spills down his cock, his body exploding in spasms as spurts slide down Derek’s fist and paint his belly with messy strokes.

Derek leaves his dick when he’s sure Stiles is dry, totally and utterly spent, getting up for whatever reason. Stiles lets out a happy sigh when a soft, wet towel meets his skin, cleaning his stomach and cock.

Stiles lies his cheek in Derek’s chest when Derek joins him back in the bed, splaying an arm around Stiles’ shoulder as Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s body.

Stiles drifts asleep like that, Derek’s heartbeat a soothing sound in his ear.

 

* * *

 

 

When Stiles wakes up, head heavy, thoughts disconnected and memories blurry, he’s alone in his bed (which is kind of a strange thought to have, because why wouldn’t he be? Who was his unconscious mind expecting to find?) and, oddly naked, with a comforter haphazardly thrown over his body.

Looking to the side, and nursing his head with how much that small movement hurts, he finds his hypothesis was correct – it is Derek’s comforter.

Derek, – who’s opening the door to their room, drenched in sweat and smiling at the sight of Stiles. Stiles finds himself smiling back.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” Derek says, leaning over the bed in his way towards the bathroom and giving a chaste peck to Stiles’ lips.

Stiles’ confusion lasts exactly one split of a second.

“We had sex last night.” Stiles realizes, eyes widening, “Kind of.”

Derek chuckles, “Yup, we did. I’m glad you remember. Now there’s some ground rules.” He says and Stiles grunting at the word, rolling his eyes as he lets his head fall back on the bed. “No sex for the next few days.”

“Why?” Stiles asks, the word sounding whiny even to his own ears.

“You know why. If Boyd and Erica shared a cabin, I wouldn’t let them have sex either. Just think of how the parents would react.”

“Fuck them.”

“We could traumatize the kids.”

Stiles sighs, “Fine, no sex for the next few days.”

“Aren’t you glad we took so long to get our heads out of our asses?” Derek asks, teasing.

“You better prepare for the shit load of sexual frustration I’ll be inflicting on you.” Stiles tells him in no uncertain terms.

He regrets it the second Derek’s hand rests in his thigh, dangerously close to Stiles’ cock. “Then I guess I’m informing you that, if I could, I would take you with me to the shower and pine you against the tiled wall. I’d rut my cock along your thigh, this fucking muscled, meaty thigh” He says, squeezing it which sends sparks of heat through Stiles’ body that converge in his cock, perking up, “and I would finger you, open you up real good, first with only one finger, and then with two, until I had three of my fingers in you, getting in and out relentlessly until you were begging me to cum.” Stiles is gagging on thin air, dick more than a little hard. “That’s what I would do.” Derek says with a shrug, like he’s _sorry_ , before sauntering into the bathroom.

 “Game on,” Stiles mutters under his breath.

After Derek leaves the bathroom, Stiles decides to take a shower as well, jerking off in the shower, his moans and the sound of skin moving against skin muffled by the spray of water falling on his shoulders.

The steaming water does wonders to both his hangover and sexual frustration.

Stepping out of the shower, Stiles wraps a towel around his waist and cleans the moisture out of the mirror with his hand, looking at his own reflection.

His lips are swollen and red and, touching them, they still feel raw and achy from rubbing on Derek’s stubble. Speaking of Derek’s stubble, it has left red blotches all over his jaw and neck. Stiles brushes his fingers along the marks left by Derek’s mouth, faintly remembers seeing likewise marks all over Derek’s jaw from his own teeth.

Heat blooms on his face and neck, coursing through his body as glimpses and flashes of last night go through his mind like a bunch of grainy photographs and even looking at his own fingers has Stiles all hot and bothered.

“This will be a very long day.” Stiles says, hands bracketing on the edges of the sink as heat settles in his groin like a warm coil.

Even more so since Stiles wants to repeat it all, several times, in several different positions – all the positions, in fact. Wants to make Derek groan and writhe and squirm under him and wants Derek to do to same with him.

Stiles shakes his head, deciding he will never leave the bathroom if he keeps entertaining those kinds of thoughts, so he brushes his teeth and leaves the bathroom.

Their bedroom is empty, which prevents Stiles from jumping Derek right then and there.

He hears Derek talking with someone in the hallway and starts getting dressed.

“Hello Derek and intruder.” Stiles greets as he leaves his bedroom, seeing Laura and Derek in their hallway, Laura’s eyes shining with a devilish delight when she notices the marks all over his neck.

Stiles resists the urge to stretch the collar of his shirt up.

“Hello, Stiles, gorgeous, funny, intelligent, compassionate Stiles.” Laura says and Derek gets a furious shade of red, the color covering his features and sneaking under his shirt.

“I’m going to wake up the kids.” Derek mutters, turning around.

“You really think I’m gorgeous, funny, intelligent and compassionate?” Stiles sing songs, teasing Derek and being a little shit.

“Laura forgot to say annoying, irritating, frustrating and utterly maddening.” Derek spits out as he climbs up the stairs.

“Shut up, if you’ve been waiting to see this ass since the beginning of the summer.” Stiles says, loudly slapping his denim covered ass.

Derek stumbles and almost walks into a wall.

“I guess that’s my cue,” Laura chuckles. “I’ve fulfilled my big sister duties. Behave around the children.” She tells him, waving goodbye.

“See ya, Laura. You can come by any time.” Stiles says, turning around and going to help Derek get the kids out of bed and into outside appropriate clothes so they can head to the cafeteria, since he, for one, is starving.

Once the kids are dressed and beds are made, they finally head over to the dining hall.

“Stiles, can I talk to you for a bit?” Scott asks when Stiles is on the steps of the cafeteria, yummy scents taunting his nose and making his stomach rumble.

“What is it?” Stiles asks and Scott’s eyes wander to Derek, standing beside him.

Derek and Scott hold a staring contest for at least two minutes, the kids getting impatient in the meantime.

“Hum, alone.” Scott stutters, wriggling his hands together nervously.

“C’mon, kids, let’s go eat.” Derek says, heading inside and Stiles spots the ghost of a smirk on his very kissable lips.

“He’s still an ass.” Scott says.

“I know, isn’t it awesome?” Stiles sighs happily.

“So you’re happy and totally not regretting last night? Because you used to hate the guy with a fervent passion,” Scott asks.

“No, you used to hate the guy, Scott. Stop projecting.” Stiles tells him.

Scott rolls his eyes. “Fine, I used to hate the guy. You’re happy, then?”

“Of course I’m happy, Scott. He’s Derek freaking Hale, hot, hardworking and awesome at poker, blackjack and foosball Derek Hale. And the best thing is, Scott, apparently he gushes over me as well. Maybe right now he’s telling Boyd, Erica, Allison, Isaac and Cora how he’s dating Stiles freaking Stilinski! Kind of,”

“I find Derek gushing about anything hard to believe.” Scott says, wrapping an arm around Stiles’ shoulders as they climb the stairs towards the cafeteria. “But I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Thanks,”

“Just be sure you guys sort out all the details before summer camp is over.” Scott advises. “I don’t want you moping around like you did upon finding out Lydia was just trying to a friend.”

 “Yes, _dad_ ”

The following days were a bit hard. If before, their interactions had only a spark of sexual tension, now they were coated in it, oozing with it. There’s something extremely arousing about sex with someone you’ve had sex before, to whom you desire of having sex again and knowing the other person is just as willing, being forbidden.

Every time their fingers touch accidently (and sometimes not just as accidentally) it sends sparks all over Stiles’ body. Every time their eyes meet whenever Derek is purposely doing something attractive (which, Derek being Derek, is basically everything), Stiles’ mouth gets cardboard dry. Whenever he finds Derek looking at him with blown out, dark eyes, his pants always get just a little bit tight.

Stiles takes revenge wearing stark red Speedos with a superman logo whenever they go to the lake, Derek (almost) bleeding from his nose, chest heaving.

 

* * *

 

 

During the last week of camp, campers use the skills they learned or perfected during the summer and apply them to small competitions between the members of each age group. There’s cannoning, swimming, rope pulling, wall climbing, racing, arts and crafts contests, scavenger hunts and so much more.

Jackson acts less like his usual douchy self.

“Push that rope harder and don’t complain to me about rope burns, you –” He says, looking at Boyd as he coughs and points at Derek, who’s glaring at him. Jackson visibly cowers. “Do the best you can, that’s alright too.” Jackson voices out weakly.

Stiles chuckles and kisses Derek on the cheek.

Derek has a dopey smile on his lips for at least an hour.

Stiles tries not to think about how much he wants to climb Derek like a tree and instead focuses on the challenges and on his campers little victories, tightly hugging Andy after he actually completes a lap swimming, his heart swelling up when Jake gets up after falling down on the relay race and clapping whenever Tommy wins a trial or leads their team to victory.

“And that’s another item found.” Stiles says, crossing pine needles from the list, which joins pine nuts, flowers and a lake from the pile of found items. “And that’s the end of the easy ones. Derek, where are we going to find mush-rooms?”

“I don’t know, Stiles. Kids, where can we find mushrooms?” Derek asks.

“We can find mushrooms in the supermarket!” Jake says.

“And in a kitchen!” Matthew adds.

Derek frowns and Stiles chuckles. “Yeah, very good kids, those are all places where we can find mushrooms. What about in the middle of the forest?”

Silence falls upon them.

“One time there was a mushroom growing in the side of my house.” Logan reveals. “It was poisonous and really dangerous and I couldn’t play in my backyard until my dad got up from his lazy bum and took it out.” He says, mimicking someone’s voice, probably his mom.

“Yeah, never eat those or anything you find in the wild, unless you know for sure it’s safe.” Stiles warns between cackles.

“And what was so special about that place, Logan?” Derek asks.

Logan thinks for a little bit, finger tapping in his chin as he’s staring off into space. “There’s a lot of shade in the back of my house. Also, the grass there is always wet and icky.”

“Very well, Logan. Mushrooms strive in humidity.” Stiles says. “Where can we find shadow and moistness in the middle of a forest?”

“Well, behind a tree, obviously.” Tommy answers.

“But wait, the sun spins, so shouldn’t every tree get the same amount of sun?” Logan asks.

“The sun spins, but trees don’t.” Derek offers.

“Also, since a forest is a large group of trees, depending on locations, some trees get less sun than others, due to each tree casting their shadow over one another.” Stiles adds.

“That’s right.” Derek agrees. “Come with me, I’ll show you where you can find them.”

“Wait a second, before we go.” Stiles says, digging his hand inside the bag he brought along giving a fistful of candy to both Logan and Tommy.

“That’s cheating.” Derek points out.

“Nowhere in the rules does it say a little sugary incentive is not allowed.” Stiles argues and Derek rolls his eyes.

“If they get tummy ache, you’ll stay with them all through the night, not me.” Derek tells him and Stiles shrugs, thinking that is a problem for future Stiles to deal with.

“Where are we going to find a smooth rock?” Logan asks, taking a peek at the scavenger hunt paper sheet, after they find a mushroom and a few other items.

“Well, smooth rocks are usually the result of a big rock being carried around by water over a couple of miles. What kind of body of water could do that, kids?” Stiles asks.

“Maybe a river,” Andy says, tentatively.

“Yes, very good, Andy, you get a candy.” Stiles says, throwing Andy a candy wrapper.

 “Where are we going to find a river out here?” Logan asks.

Stiles scratches the back of his head. “Well, I remember there being one. I don’t really know where it was, though.” He says, turning to Derek. “Would you care to help?”

“I’ve been helping, Stiles.” Derek tells him.

“Telling the kids to look around for signs is not helping.” Stiles states. “If we get there in last place, if we get there _after_ Jackson, he’ll never let this go and it will all be your fault.”

“Letting us look around for clues is cool.” Tommy says.

Derek smirks and Stiles snorts. “Getting there in last place isn’t.”

“We’re not getting there in last place, don’t worry, Stiles. We have a pretty good time. C’mon kids, start looking around for a river.” He says, the kids scurrying off.

“See, bringing candy was pretty good idea.” Stiles says after they find the river and, in its shore, a round stone. That kills two birds with one stone, Stiles crossing out both the round stone and the river stream from the list.

Derek helps him distributing the remaining candies among the campers.

“And you thought candies were a bad idea.” Stiles teases when he catches Derek stuffing some spare candy in his pockets.

“I’m holding back any further judgment on that front until tonight.” Derek says.

“Fair. And in the spirit of fairness, making an effort to include the kids was also a pretty good idea. They seem really happy and not only about the candy.” Stiles admits.

“My ideas are always good.” Derek nods and Stiles kisses the smug smile out of Derek’s lips, which has them giving a few more chaste pecks before returning to camp.

Stiles gives Derek a quick kiss when they end up winning the scavenger hunt.

And then Derek is cupping the back of his neck and bringing their lips together for another kiss, Stiles resting his hands on Derek’s chest when their lips finally met. Derek’s lips are insistent and hungry against Stiles’, the texture of his soft lips, probing tongue and the sharp stab of Derek’s teeth bringing forth images from the night they spent together that until then had merely stayed in the outskirts of his mind, tangible, but not quite within reach.

The feeling is also a lot more vivid than he remembers.

Derek’s fingers wake nervous junctions Stiles didn’t even think he had, all over his body and the pressure of Derek’s lips against his and Derek’s tongue tangling with his own, giving him a taste of mint and a myriad of other sweet flavors from all the candy Derek had been eating is just unearthly and so, so good.

When Derek breaks the kiss, Stiles’ legs are shaking and he feels slightly heady, the imprint of Derek’s lips and the sharp nib of his teeth still present in his mouth.

Marisa in 3rd grade and Jeremy in junior year clearly had no idea of what they had been doing.

“Fuck,” Derek whispers.

Stiles chuckles and agrees with Derek’s sentiment at 120%. “I was thinking” Stiles says and Derek whistles.

“Color me afraid.”

“Just hear me out. Today is the last day of camp and maybe we could make an exception. Say, celebrate our victory with some orgasms,” Stiles shrugs.

Derek sighs like this is the most difficult decision in the world. “Okay.”

“Okay? Just like that? And here I thought it would take a lot of convincing for you to agree.” Stiles says with a pout on his lips.

“I’m sorry to disappoint.” Derek smirks.

“Well,” Stiles ponders. “I’m sharing a detail with you anyway. And, this is a spoiler, so you better cover your ears.” He says and Derek just arches a brow. “Okay, you’re bad. I’m not wearing any underwear underneath this khaki shorts.” Stiles winks and pats Derek’s arm, walking away to enjoy the tons of desserts, candies and fried goodness on display.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Derek lets out in a whispered mutter, tousling his fingers through his hair while he collects his jaw back from where it’s hanging over the grassy ground. 

 

* * *

 

 

After camp fire singing, last day celebrations and laying the kids to bed, the youngsters falling asleep almost instantly, Derek drags Stiles towards their room, latching his mouth on to Stiles’ own, Stiles’ body stuck between the closed door and Derek’s warm, muscled front.

Derek’s lips are dry and chapped, his tongue moving around incessantly inside Stiles’ mouth and against Stiles’ own, his hands roaming along Stiles’ broad shoulders and his toned arms, sneaking under Stiles’ shirt and trailing across his chest, thumbs teasing Stiles’ nipples, making him utter out a moan that he devours with famished lips.

As punishment, Stiles bites at his lower lip, making Derek grunt.

Derek’s hands keep feeling Stiles’ up, gripping to his sides and sneaking pressing into Stiles’ abs, which kind of makes Stiles squirm a bit, ticklish.

Stiles’ hands are equally daring, moving down Derek’s back and sneaking under his tight pants, groping at his ass and squeezing Derek’s cheeks between his fists.

Derek grunts, rough and hoarse, pulling Stiles’ bottom lip between his teeth as if to muffle the needy sound.

It’s like they are touch starved.

Derek lets Stiles push him back towards one of the beds, falling as Stiles shoves him back, falling on top of the mattress with a huff and a thump. From the bed, his search for Stiles, expression bare and almost vulnerable, elbows propped against the covers the only thing keeping him from being completely laid down.

His green eyes, shining in the bright light of the fluorescent light hovering above, are probably the most beautiful thing Stiles has ever seen in his entire life, besides probably the small hint of pubic hair peeking out from under Derek’s dark jeans, Henley riding up on his torso.

“Take as long as you want.” Derek tells him in a dry tone, brow cocked up and a smirk tugging at his lip as he removes his shirt (and okay, Stiles lied, Derek’s muscles flexing as he pulls out the Henley through his head and throws it into the floor _is_ the most beautiful, stunning, sexy thing he has ever see) and kicks off his shoes effortlessly.

“Right, no, yeah, just give me a minute.” Stiles says, his muddy shoes joining Derek’s pristine ones by the carpet before he almost falls over, his shorts around his ankles. His shirt also gets stuck, first in his elbows and then around his head. “How in the hell do you make this look so easy?” Stiles whines, knee bumping on the bed and making him stumble, falling on top of Derek, which isn’t entirely unpleasant.

Derek lets out a low chuckle, helping him out. “You’re always so clumsy.”

“And you’re always so grossly graceful, it’s frustrating.” Stiles tells him, taking Derek’s nipple prisoner between his teeth once he’s free of his deathtrap of a shirt, tongue teasingly playing with the nub.

Derek’s crotch shoots up as he rocks his head back, doing his best to keep quiet.

“And your mouth is always so delicate.” Derek spits out, almost like a bark, as he caresses the back of Stiles’ head.

Stiles nibbles and licks his way down Derek’s torso and abs, leaving small red blotches along the tanned skin, little marks here and there that he sooths with languid swipes of his tongue right after.

Unfastening Derek’s jeans, Stiles pulls them down until they are just hanging under Derek’s knees, Derek squirming under Stiles’ tugs.

“Why do your pants have to be so tight?” Stiles complains, trying to free Derek’s cock of the restricting grip of the black fabric.

“Why do you have to be so –” Derek’s speech is cut off, his word becoming little more than a grunt when Stiles licks a wet strip across Derek’s cock before taking him into his mouth.

“Awesome?” Stiles mumbles around Derek’s cock and he shivers under the glorious and blissful expertise of Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles starts taking more of Derek’s dick into his mouth, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock and going as deep as he can before he’s feeling like chocking, coming back up, only to dive back in again, the knowledge that his mouth is the one making Derek’s cock harder and harder making him greedier and greedier, taking more of Derek each time.

It’s not long before Derek is a broken mess, face red and lips swollen from trying to keep his disgruntled groans and pleasurable moans in check.

When Stiles takes all of him in his mouth, Derek’s pubic hairs tickling his nose and the head of Derek’s cock burning at the back of his throat, Derek lets out a low keen and Stiles smirks, smug and shameless, feeling so fucking proud of himself for being able to break through Derek’s steel resolve.

“Fuck.” Derek mutters, his hand grazing over the back of Stiles’ head as he thrusts into Stiles’ throat, Stiles’ hands gripping unto Derek’s hips as he strokes around Derek’s cock.

Derek’s thrusts are becoming sloppy and desperate in his mouth and Stiles knows Derek’s close to cumming, recognizes the tell tale signs, so he ignores the roughness in the back of his throat and the tears burning in his eyes as Derek keeps plundering into him. Derek’s hand on the back of Stiles’ head is a light weight and Stiles knows he could just move back if he wanted to.

The thing is, he doesn’t want to, is enjoying this so fucking much.

Stiles is rewarded with the sweet taste of cum in his mouth as Derek’s waist stills and a strangled breath lets out his lungs, Derek’s whole body trembling under Stiles’ hands and mouth as Derek relaxes into the mattress.

Stiles leaves Derek’s cock with a chaste kiss to its head, kissing his way up Derek’s body.

Derek smiles when Stiles’ lips touch his, his hand cupping Stiles’ jaw while his other one caresses his ass cheek.

“Fuck, that felt good.” Derek breathes out.

Stiles smirks. “Glad you liked it.”

“Now, Stiles” Derek whispers, teeth grazing over Stiles’ earlobe as his palm wraps around Stiles still hard cock “How about you cum for me?”

Stiles nods his head fervently. “Yeah, please, I’m totally down for that.”

Derek chuckles and captures Stiles’ lips into his again, giving Stiles’ dick only two jerks before he’s cumming in hot spurts over Derek’s chest, covering his abs in white streaked lines. He would feel a tad embarrassed for cumming so fast if he didn’t felt so good.

Derek presses his lips into the corner of Stiles’ mouth while Stiles cleans his cum off of Derek’s body with a shirt.

“That was my shirt.” Derek says, sounding grumpy and sleepy and satisfied, which is an oddly combination, but so are the two of them and here they are.

“Shut up and cuddle me.” Stiles orders, slapping Derek’s arm before laying his cheek on Derek’s chest, Derek caressing Stiles’ sides and back with light fingers, which feels really fucking good, relaxing and smooth.

And then they almost die of heart attack when there’s a knock at the door.

“Shit!” Stiles mutters and when the door opens, the two of them pulling their pants up and Stiles is slipping unto his shirt while Derek is sitting up on the bed, chest still bare, eying his shirt with distaste, his brows furrowing when his eyes rest on Stiles.

Stiles shows him his tongue.

“What were you doing?” Matthew asks when he enters the room and notices Derek’s figure on his bed.

“We were doing nothing.” Stiles offers.

“That’s what my mom and dad always say.” Matthew tells them.

Stiles chuckles and takes Matthew’s hand into his. “And why aren’t you sleeping, little man? It’s way past your bed time.”

“Couldn’t fall asleep.” Matthew supplies. “Can you tell me a bedtime story, ‘Tiles?

“Of course I can.” Stiles says, mouthing a ‘I will be right back’ at Derek while the child pulls him away, cursing the interruption in his mind.

Also, his throat still feels raw and rough, feels like he still has something in his mouth when he swallows, still feels like he has Derek’s cock in his mouth and, well, those are just not thoughts you should be having while laying a kid to sleep.

They just aren’t.

When Stiles returns to his room, Derek is wearing a tank top and a pair of sweatpants, looking hotter than he should be allowed to after Stiles’ mouth has just jerked him off.

Now Stiles is allowed to touch him, though.

So he does just that, placing his hands in Derek’s chest, feeling Derek’s firm muscles beneath the fabric of the tank top and his heartbeat picking up a little against Stiles’ open palm.

“We need to talk,” Says Derek.

“Spiderman, Final Fantasy and all of them,” Stiles reveals.

“Batman, Uncharted and PlayStation,” Derek says, cupping Stiles’ sides. “But it’s not about that and besides, I thought you were a broke college student.”

Stiles shrugs, “A guy can dream, your choice of favorite superhero is totes depressing and any other topic you might come up with is boring.”

“It’s about what happens after summer camp is over.” Derek says and Stiles heart jumps happily at the question.

He plays the tough act, though. “You mean tomorrow.”

“I mean between the two of us.”

Be still, fragile heart. “Well, we’ll swap phone numbers and e-mail addresses and actual addresses, although already know where you live. I’ll be going to college in a couple of weeks, but we’ll always have weekends and school breaks and skype – a true miracle of technology. You know about skype, don’t you?” Stiles mocks.

“Yes, I do.”

“Do you even have a computer?”

“Yes, Stiles, I have a computer.”

“Then ask Nathan or Laura to teach you how to use it.”

“I know how to use technology, Stiles.” Derek lies. “It won’t be easy, long distance.” He adds.

“I know, Derek. I’m not a kid. I know it will be hard, but I’m willing to give us a chance, though.” Stiles says.

“Then I guess I have something to ask you.”

“Derek, usually people date for a couple of months before getting married.” Stiles teases and Derek rolls his eyes, unable to hold back a smile.

“It’s not that, Stiles.”

Stiles theatrically covers his mouth, open in mock horror, with his hand. “Derek, how can you make me such an indecent offer when there’s children sleeping upstairs?”

Derek furrows his brows and starts tickling him.

“No, please stop!” Stiles pleads between loud laughs.

“Then you have to promise me to stop interrupting.”

“I promise, I promise!” Stiles cries.

Derek lets him go and Stiles takes a step back away from him, bending over his knees and trying to recover his breath. “You’re such an asshole.”

Derek shrugs, looking hella smug. “I know. Will you accompany me to my brother’s wedding?”

Stiles’ heart starts literally exploding in his chest with happiness at the question. He covers it all with the usual Stilinski wit. No point in letting Derek know just how heads over heels for him Stiles already is. “I don’t know, Derek. Uncomfortable suits, chokingly tight ties, inquiring relatives…”

“A hotel room for just the two of us, since the wedding is happening in New York,” Derek adds.

Stiles smiles and wraps his arms around Derek’s neck again, pulling him into a kiss. God, he’ll never get used to how good of a kisser Derek is, his hands in Stiles’ waist as his lips apply just the right amount of pressure against his, tongue pulling a gasping breath out of Stiles’ mouth. “Then I guess you can count me in.” He says.

Derek grins in response, meeting their lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this and thanks for reading!


End file.
